


Partners

by masseylass



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Emetophilia, Flogging, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Love, M/M, Makeup Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Riding Crops, Rimming, Smut, Urination, Vibrators, sub sandwiches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 62
Words: 139,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masseylass/pseuds/masseylass
Summary: A week after waking up from cryo, a bloody Nate crawls into Goodneighbor, investing every last cap into some snarky, young mercenary. Months later, Nate realizes he relies on MacCready not just for protection but for companionship. Just as Nate and MacCready reach a level of trust and friendship neither of them have managed to attain thus far, MacCready gets a boner. A boner that will turn Nate's world inside out. (Smut starts at chapter 3, lasts throughout the story, every-other chapter or so. Lookin' at you, kinky reader. Table of Smutty Contents in endnotes.)





	1. Radsick

**Author's Note:**

> (To skip to the erotica scenes, please see chapter 1 end notes for table of smutty contents.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready wind down for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to see here, just a guy and his straight friend.

Sometimes I couldn’t believe I hired a twenty-two year old kid to watch my back. Those were desperate times back in Goodneighbor. I felt like I was tough enough to handle whatever came my way, but the apocalypse? I never could have prepared for that. I remember crawling into the Third Rail bruised and bloody. I had only been out of the vault a week, and raiders, mutants, and ferals had torn me to pieces. Anyone watching my back, even if it was just come snarky kid, seemed worth the caps.

It all worked out in the end. MacCready was pretty good company once you got to know him. Sure, he oozed sarcasm like the Glowing Sea oozed radiation, but he had a good sense of humor. He laughed often, which was a welcome comfort out there in the wastes, not to mention his sharp wit and even sharper aim. He stuck with me through thick and thin, including my tireless efforts to bring peace to the Minutemen, Brotherhood, Railroad and Institute. A futile effort, I know, but I had to try.

We had just picked up some technical documents for the Brotherhood from an outbuilding that bordered the Glowing Sea. I was beginning to hate myself for catering to the Brotherhood and their garbage ideals, but caps were caps, and I could always sink those caps back into the Minutemen or Railroad later. Lord knows they needed it.

I took point as usual, MacCready tagging along at my six. He was lightweight and at least a head shorter than myself, walking quietly over the brush. Smart move. Traveling anywhere south of Brighton at night was a mistake. The entire area was marsh, and you were as likely to trip over a mirelurk as you were a rock. I knew we needed to find shelter before the last light of the sunset disappeared behind the green radclouds.

Just then, a twig snapped, and I heard the kid’s breath hitch. My heavy ass broke sticks all the time, but MacCready insisted on being stealthy. I stopped and turned around to check on him. He was moving forward, rifle strapped to his back with an open palm settled against his gut. He was pale.

“You look like shit.”

He glanced up as he proceeded toward me, gunmetal eyes glinting against the irradiated light of the sunset. “Heh. Bold statement coming from someone with that haircut.”

Ouch. MacCready one, Nate zero. He had been teasing me for weeks, ever since I could stick my dark hair back into a ponytail. It was nice to be able to pull it out of my eyes during combat, but was it really worth the commentary? I should have just let that barber in Diamond City chop it off.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I acquiesced. “Seriously though. You good?”

He caught up to me at last. I placed a firm hand against his shoulder and continued to walk with him through the gnarled trees. 

He sighed the same way he always did when he was tired or hungry or wanted to complain or fill the void with useless noise. “Yeah,” he answered. “Think I soaked up too many rads is all. I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s getting late. Let’s just look for shelter.”

The merc was right. It was almost dark. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and pressed forward. I swear, whenever we needed a place to hunker down for the night, the only thing we’d find was a building full of ferals, traps or worse. But that night, a pair of cabins peeked out from over the tree line. It was almost too good to be true. 

We crept into the driveway, its cracked earth home to two cabins, an outhouse, a cooking spit, and a rusted, old Corvega. Judging by the dormant ash and empty, aluminum cans that surrounded the fire pit, I’d say passersby used this as a place to rest up before moving on. It was too close to the Glowing Sea to settle there, and there wasn’t much trade going on that far to the southwest. 

My partner and I exchanged glances and nodded before flanking the larger of the two buildings; our usual maneuver. I watched him disappear behind the side of the cabin to the right, rifle drawn. Meanwhile, I crept past the wall to the left with my musket. I gave it a single crank. Its laser hummed against the rush of silence that penetrated the air. The sound my gun made when I charged it drove MacCready insane. A sniper’s gun wasn’t supposed to make noise, he said, though it was hard for him to argue that point when the damage output from my six-crank-capacitator far outweighed my lack of stealth capabilities. At least I thought so. MacCready just thought I was cocky.

Once we scouted the big cabin, MacCready appeared out front and paused. He held his fist into the air. Stop. I did. He nodded toward the small cabin. I squinted. Eleven o’clock: yaoi guai sleeping by the Corvega.

I gave my musket a second crank. Two was usually enough to kill a bear or a stag, assuming I landed a headshot. I did, and its skull and brains exploded against the car with a crunch that kind of reminded me of ripping apart a bell pepper back when those were a thing. MacCready looked revolted and made a face at me.

Sorry, I mouthed, and shrugged.

His glower intensified.

I stood up straight and peered ahead into the window of the smaller cabin. There didn’t appear to be any other wildlife, unless you counted the glowing fungus or half a radroach carapace. I entered and kicked it aside, taking note of the dresser, the painting that managed to hang even after the bombs, and the broken bed frame. Useless. I pocketed what few caps I found and processed into the big cabin.

MacCready was already standing at the threshold. I approached from behind, standing next to him. “Cabins. Not bad. But would you feel more comfortable with a rocky ceiling above your head?”

“Oh shaddup. Find anything good over there?” He asked.

“Ten caps, a dead roach, and a painting of a cat.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You already have three cat paintings back home. You couldn’t pay me to haul that garbage around for you.”

“But it’s a collectable,” I teased.

“Collectible?” He turned to face me. “Oh, come on. You’re already bad enough with your dollies.”

“They’re bobbleheads, Robert.”

“Hey, call me Robert again and you’re gonna be the one with a bobblehead, assho- er, jerk.” Hands preoccupied with his rifle, he opted to nudge me with his elbow instead of his usual punch. We exchanged tired laughter. “So,” he continued, “there another bed here?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Just Mittens.”

“Damn.” He looked forward. This cabin was a tad bigger, with a couple nightstands, a vanity, and a double bed. One of us would be sleeping on that bed tonight. I knew MacCready wasn’t feel well, so it wouldn’t be me. Ah well. I’d slept on worse floors.

“You take it,” I insisted.

“You sure?” he asked. “I can probably get cozy in the back of the car.”

“Don’t be stupid, that thing is falling apart. Get some rest and feel better. I’m gonna go see if I can pull a decent cut off that yao guai and get dinner going.”

MacCready gave a relenting sigh. “Alright. Here.” He set his rifle aside and reached into his duster, pulling out his gold-plated flip lighter. He handed it off to me so I could get the fire going.

“Thanks. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Hey, I’m in no rush,” he replied, collapsing into a miserable heap onto the mattress. He was still looking a little rough around the edges.

I shook my head and removed my heavy backpack, rifling through its contents. Stimpaks, purified water, food, space blankets, anti-rad medicine, magazines, ammo, desk fans, copper wire, a wrench, a frigging lamp… I needed professional help.

I tossed a baggie onto MacCready’s chest. It landed with a thud. “Pop some Radaway, jackass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” he moaned, reaching for the green substance. I left him to his own devices.


	2. Past Your Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate reflects on his relationship with MacCready and ruins dinner. MacCready exercises dental hygiene and fanboys over Grognak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't beat yourself up, Nate. Dinner would have been ruined either way; it's not like you could cook BEFORE the bombs fell.

Considering we already had shelter and a place to cook, I could probably handle dinner on my own. I started by taking off my general’s coat and laying it over the railing of the porch I just stepped down from. My jeans, boots, and white muscle shirt were filthy. I was filthy. We would probably stop off in Goodneighbor for ammo on the way back to the Prydwen. I knew at least two people in that shitstain of a settlement who had a functioning washing machine. Enough caps and they’d let me wash my clothes. But for now, I’d have to deal.

Storm clouds loomed against the horizon. I thought they were typical radstorm clouds until I saw a flash of lightning due north. It was far enough away from the Glowing Sea that it had to be a rainstorm brewing. At least for now we were dry. There were nights when we ended up soaked from the rain, sitting awkwardly in our smallclothes while our pants dried by the fire. I’d play Red Menace on my Pipboy and he’d read old Grognak comics until we could get dressed and make eye contact again.

I spent a good ten, fifteen minutes cutting ribs from the yao guai. Not an easy task with a combat knife, but it got the job done. I skewered the meat and set to work lighting a fire. This task took even longer than the one before it. Between gathering kindling and searching for logs that weren’t already reduced to ash, it’s a wonder I got a fire going at all. The one time I could have used a Boston Bugle, there were none. The next time I went to loot a trunk for caps, I would find fifteen copies. Mark my words.

I took a seat on the ground, watching the storm grow closer, the smell of electricity, petrichor, and cigarette smoke in the air. Looks like MacCready kept another lighter on him. There was also a faint glow coming from the cabin. Guess the kid found a lantern. Good for him. As I sat alone in the night listening to the rusty spit turn, my thoughts drifted back to last fall when I first hired MacCready. 

I still couldn’t believe he stuck around. Two hundred and fifty caps was nothing, and yet it’s all he asked for. Even when I was fresh out of the vault and utterly broke, he accepted my haggling and took less. He should have been charging thousands, thousands of caps for the work he did. He had followed me to hell and back: the Libertalia, the Glowing Sea, you name it. And say what you will about his attitude, MacCready was loyal. Reliable. Unwavering.

I could smell the ribs now. Damn, I was hungry. I turned the crank and closed my eyes. A flash of lightning. The rumble of thunder. The crackle of flames. The creak of the mattress. The groan of the wooden frame beneath my partner’s weight.

Recently, he told me about Duncan. About Lucy. He never talked about them during our first few months together. I figured he was just reserved. But boy, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I mean, he’d gone from having a wife and child – a family – to being all alone out there, getting himself caught up in shitty situations like with the gunners. Turns out he just needed someone he could trust, who he could count on. He decided that person was me.

What he didn’t know was that I felt the same. I was quieter about it, but the loss of my husband was killing me. Some nights, I wondered if I would wake up and realize I couldn’t go on anymore. With MacCready around, I felt less of that. Things actually started making sense. And if he was going to risk his life to keep me alive, then I was going to do the same. Suddenly, I had a reason for living again. When he told me that sometimes he wished he would have died down there in that metro station with his wife, I just… 

My dark thoughts were interrupted by the pitter-patter of rain. So much rain, in fact, that it was extinguishing my fire, and my ribs were nowhere near cooked. “Ah, come on…” I muttered. I poked at the fire with a stick, but it was a moot point. Time to call it a night.

I resigned my ribs to their unfortunate fate, snagged my coat, and retreated back into the cabin. MacCready was sitting up in bed with his back against the headboard reading a comic by lantern light, duster and fatigues folded and set aside on the nightstand with his ashtray. My foot roused a squeaky floorboard. Reduced to his gray tee and boxers, he glanced up. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I wrung out my hair.

He looked me over. I thought he was going to comment about how I was soaked, or poke fun at the annoyed expression undoubtedly lingering on my face from my useless excursion. Instead, he asked, “Where’s the food?”

“Ugh,” I sighed, and shook my head at him. 

“What?” he shrugged, watching me remove my wet shirt. “Doesn’t Radaway make you hungry?” 

I went to hang my shirt over the vanity, catching a quick glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror. Before the war, I struggled to find the will to go to the gym. Now, I was building more muscle than I ever thought possible. It felt different when there was no choice. It was either get fit or die. And I certainly didn’t choose to have that knife scar across my belly, or that burn on my shoulder from the mirelurk queen acid. Before the bombs, I would have loved the idea of having this body. But now…

A crunch snapped me back to reality. I hung my shirt over the mirror and turned around. I didn’t notice the bag of crisps before, hugging MacCready’s side. “Oh yeah, hope you don’t mind, I grabbed some chips and a comic from your backpack.”

I smirked. “Chips before dinner?”

“Hey, I was just looking for Grognak. Then I found these and I got impatient, sooo…”

I rolled my eyes and tittered, collecting from my backpack the things I would need to sleep for the night. I pulled out a space blanket I’d swiped from a military checkpoint, as well as some purified water. I didn’t mind sleeping on the ground before, but the air was getting colder, and I was starting to feel miserable.

While I was setting up my little nest in the corner, MacCready finished my crisps, plucked his toothbrush from his bag, and stuck his face out the window to brush. Funny, but it made sense. His ashen hair was safe from the rain thanks to the awning. I sat with my back to the wall and studied the mercenary. His goofy hat was set aside as he hung casually out the window, elbows on the sill, pantsless ass jutting out.

He wasn’t always that comfortable around me. When we first teamed up, he was more jaded, less inclined to hold conversation, and never ever took his hat off. It fell off once during a fight. There was a moment where I could see a decision flash in his eyes. Should he steady his aim, or drop his gun and retrieve his hat? Of course, he opted to snipe the face off a raider before grabbing his hat, but he really struggled there for a minute. Now, he took it off every night. Funny how he made fun of my hair when he looked like an Atom Cat knockoff. 

MacCready spat and turned around. One look at me and he wrinkled his nose. “Oh man, that’s just sad. Take the bed, wontcha?” 

“I’m fine,” I insisted. I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to tilt my head back and try to get some sleep.

“Come on, boss, I can tell you’re not.”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. He was right. I wasn’t fine. It was a long day. Since the bombs fell, days, weeks, even months seemed to drag on. That was nothing new. But somewhere between facing my thoughts about my late husband, ruining dinner, and getting soaked, I just…

“Just take it.”

“Okay,” I relented. I collected my things and moved onto the bed, settling onto the side farthest from the window. I stretched out onto my back. Hairline cracks zigzagged against the plaster of the ceiling. It reminded me of the lightning outside. As if on cue, another bolt cracked the sky and thunder roared overhead. 

MacCready took a seat on the side opposite mine. He set aside the empty crisp container and resumed his comic. “Just gonna finish up this chapter. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Mm-mm,” I agreed, and closed my eyes.

I drifted in and out for a while, the uncomfortable blanket draped over my legs. At least I had a goddamn mattress when I needed one for once in my life. When my brown eyes opened again, my internal clock told me it was one of the early hours of the morning. The lantern was still bright, and there was a stack of comics between me and the merc.

I glanced over. “You still reading?” My mouth was somehow dry and salivating at the same time. I felt like I’d woken up from a crappy nap. I wiped the drool away with the back of my hand. “Time is it?”

“Huh?” MacCready stared down at me from his sitting position. “Oh. Damn. I guess it’s pretty late, huh? Sorry. It got cold and I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been reading comic books.” I was smart enough to have grabbed several blankets from the checkpoint, and MacCready was bundled up in two of them, one over his lap and the other over his shoulders. “Besides, Grognak just teamed up with Manta Man to defeat Mastadonald, so…”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah…so that’s…important…”

“Go to bed.”

“Fine.” He heaved a sigh and closed the comic book, collecting the growing stack between us. He scooped them into his arms and shifted his weight. 

“Stay.”

“Huh?” He looked over his shoulder, bare feet planted on the cold floor.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Back in the vault, I fell out of my cryo-pod. My nose broke when I hit the floor. The bruises were gone but I still had a scar that stretched across my nose, a crooked nose that I pinched whenever I got one of my headaches. They liked to crop up at inconvenient times, kind of like MacCready’s witticisms.

“You’ve been here half the night. No sense in moving to the floor.”

He blinked. 

I bundled myself in my blanket and rolled over with my back facing MacCready. I was glad he was there, but my head ached and I was ready for sleep. I couldn’t have cared less about sharing a bed with him. We had done some pretty weird shit together. Like the time we found a bunch of gas canisters near Fiddler’s Green Estates, shot them, and watched them blast off into the air before exploding like fireworks. Or the time we got drunk near Everett and spent the evening trying to shoot our piss streams through lifesavers floating along the reservoir. Or the day after when we were so hung over that…well, we don’t talk about that. Point being, sharing a bed was a tame affair.

MacCready didn’t say anything. I heard a puff of air before the lantern light died out. The bed moved and creaked under his weight as he shifted into a more comfortable position. I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of the rain against the tin roof, and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate wakes up with a foreign object pressed against his bum. Could it be? Oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Nate. You're such a hopeless romantic. No, wait. Hopeless. You're hopeless.

I woke up on my side. It was freezing, even for a Boston spring. I didn’t have to see my arms to know they were covered in goosebumps. The storm had died down, but the soft murmur of rain could still be heard against the roof and the cracked earth. The gray light of dawn illuminated the cabin. I would have felt at peace if I hadn’t been so cold. Well, at least my back was warm, I thought.

Wait.

I laid still, eyes open. Yeah, MacCready was definitely touching me. You know what though? Whatever. He was probably freezing too. I would get out bed and inevitably wake him, and by the time he opened his eyes, he wouldn’t even know he had ever rolled up against me. It was fine. Totally, totally – 

Something twitched.

No. Couldn’t be.

Still as ever, I waited. Waited to feel the same sensation. I didn’t want to feel it again, I just wanted to double check. Of course, I wouldn’t feel it again, because it never happened and I was imagining things. But then it did happen.

Yup. That was a penis.

Okay. Okay okay okay. No, I could handle this.

MacCready and I were close. Hell, he was probably my best friend. There was no point in dodging that reality. We had both been through hell. Losing a spouse, complicated circumstances with our children, making poor life choices… That was a lot of deep stuff to have in common with someone. That being said, I knew MacCready was straight, he knew I was gay, and there was never, ever any indicator that either of us were interested in each other.

His cock twitched against my ass. Jesus Christ. 

Well NOW I was thinking that way. Was he attractive? I always respected that he was straight and left it at that. I mean, it’s not like we sat down and had a conversation about our sexuality, but I told him about my husband, he told me about Lucy, and that was that. Nate gay, MacCready straight. Right? He was my traveling partner, and I thought of him exclusively as such.

That being said, he had some killer eyes. Earlier I compared them to gunmetal. I liked this comparison. See, I always preferred laser weapons myself (hence the musket) but MacCready liked metal. None of that polymer crap. He always smelled of oil and metal casings. One day I realized the barrel to his .50 cal matched his eyes. Pretty, I had thought.

Then there was his frame. Lean and muscled. He looked scrawny wrapped up in that old duster all the time, but whenever he stripped down to his shirt and shorts (like he was just then) it was easy to see that he lived an active lifestyle. He had natural tone on his arms and calves. And I liked his hair, thick, dark blond tufts on his chest and calves, or the way his happy trail began at his navel and descended all the way down to his – 

Oh my god, I realized, this guy is smoking fucking hot.

What was I gonna do? For all the soul-searching I did out there in the apocalypse, this was NOT the kind of epiphany I wanted. How was I ever going to look at him again? How was I going to feel the next time he dropped a bullet and bent over to pick it up? He had a great ass. Just, a great ass.

I swallowed. My own ass was right there against his crotch. Jesus. Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just feeling the blankets bunched up between us or something. Maybe he found the second bag of crisps I hid in the back pocket of my backpack (it was wise to hide junk food from that animal) and the canister was, I dunno, probing me? I’d better make sure, I figured, and gently, gently, shifted my hips back.

What moved against my butt was not crisps.

I panicked and flipped over to face him. When my eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, I realized that his eyes were open too. He was awake. 

Once, MacCready and I found a makeshift settlement up north, guarded by raiders. He had nudged me and pointed to a tall, stone tower. Cool, I thought, the perfect sniper’s nest. We climbed a million stairs and took position, ready to take out the baddies on the ground. There was a switch to a generator – or so I thought – up on top of the tower. Cool, I thought again, we can flip off their power. R.J. has a night vision scope, so that’ll be fun. I flipped the switch. It was not a generator. It was an air raid siren that attracted several deathclaws. Trés dramatique.

My point being that when I realized MacCready’s had been awake, those same sirens went off in my head. I was mortified. Maybe my head-sirens would telepathically summon a couple more deathclaws to come kill me, because dying seemed preferable to whatever was about to come next.

“Shit – uh, shoot, I’m sorry,” pleaded MacCready.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. What did my face look like? Did I look angry? Confused? Both? 

“L-l-look man,” he pleaded, “I guess I just rolled over in the middle of the night and stayed that way. Sorry. I d-d-didn’t mean t-to…”

What I did next surprised me just as much as it did MacCready. I have no idea what compelled me to do it. Maybe it was because he was still so obviously hard in his boxers. Maybe it was because I was desperate.

“Shut up.”

“O-o-okay.” He did. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t talk. He only watched as I reached for his waistband and tugged his boxers down over his cock. He was so hard that they snagged for a moment before the elastic finally snapped over it, coming to rest against his balls. He wanted to say something. I could tell. But he didn’t, or couldn’t, not sure which.

I went straight to work and took him into my mouth. There was a slight hitch in his breath as I felt him shift. I glanced up briefly. Though the same look of shock was still on his face, he wasn’t protesting. I closed my eyes and lowered my head, slowly taking his five-or-so inches into my mouth, lips touching the base of his shaft. 

I allowed the flat of my tongue to settle against his underside, seizing hold of his base with my fist and sucking up, up, up, all the way back to the tip with a pop. His hips moved. He breathed through his nose.

My tongue circled over his head a few times before I got right down to business, lowering myself down his shaft and back up again. I bobbed my head and began stroking him off in my fist. I tightened the grip, loosened it, tightened it again, and teased his balls with my off hand. He was so hard.

The next time my tongue reached the tip I could taste his first drop of precum. I allowed my jaw some rest and paused over his head. He twitched hard inside my mouth. That alone made my own cock start to feel hard inside of my jeans. It was to the point that I was almost straining. Screw my jaw, I thought, and went back to work, tongue lapping fervently as I took him all the way to the back of my throat. 

I moved up and down, down and up, groping his balls, twisting my fist against his shaft. I could have gotten lost in that moment forever, sucking off a hot, young mercenary, listening to the patter of rain in the early dawn. Unfortunately I was granted no such luxury.

“Whoa, whoa, wh – ” he protested, kind of like he did when he was being shot at. Except that this time he extended the last ‘whoa,’ vowels issuing loudly with no end in sight. “ – Ohhhh!”

His head rested against my tongue. He stiffened. I gave him a stroke and slowly, arduously, took him as far as he would go. I moaned and took him until he was at the back of my throat. I was instantly met with a warm sensation. I stroked him again. Another twitch of his cock and he ejaculated again, and again, and again. God damn, how long had it been for him? I stroked him until he panted, “Okay, okay, stop.” I swallowed and sat up on the bed. 

We locked eyes for ten seconds. I know, because I counted. In those ten seconds, I released his now flaccid dick. I wiped my mouth. He wiped the sweat from his brow. We both stared in horror at one another. But most importantly, we said nothing.


	4. Nani Shimasu Ka?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate meditates. He meditates right into the ocean. Then, breakfast with the gang!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orange is not a good look on you, Blue. Gotta stop kissing ass for the Brotherhood and maybe kiss MacCready instead. #clueless

The rain stopped. We collected our things in silence and hit the road. It must have been five thirty, six in the morning. I couldn’t remember. I’m sure I checked my Pipboy a million times, but the events of the morning – checking the time, tossing the ruined ribs into the woods, gathering up our belongings – all sort of blended together.

Up the road a ways was a small raider encampment. Our tactic for small locations was to flank each side like we had done while scouting the cabin. Well, we did, except unlike back at the cabin, neither of us made eye contact. We took our respective positions, me going left and him going right, cleared out the raiders, collected loot (me on my side and him on his side) and went on our way. We didn’t even pool the loot and split it up. 

That was the mood for most of the day. And the worst part? I had a raging hard on.

After mercing a handful of mirelurks in awkward silence, we approached Egret Tours Marina. It was about three in the afternoon. When we entered the parking lot, MacCready spoke the first words in ten hours. “Damn, I’m starving.”

Food. We had forgotten to eat food. No breakfast. No lunch. Just silence.

“Think Phyllis has something to eat?” he asked. 

“Probably.” 

“Well, I’m gonna go ask. You coming?”

Coming.

We locked eyes like we did that morning. He must have realized what he just said, because MacCready said, “Uhhh, never mind,” and went inside without me. 

“Be right there,” I mumbled. He heard me, because he gave a compliant wave without bothering to look back at me. 

I waited until he was inside, presumably chatting up Phyllis Daily, before excusing myself into the boathouse next door, closing and locking the door behind me. I dropped my backpack to the dock and pressed my back up against the wall, taking a deep, long breath. Holy shit. 

There would have to be a conversation, wouldn’t there? I dreaded it, and I’m sure my partner did too. I tried to push the thought aside, not that concentrating on anything was easy at the moment. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard MacCready’s voice as I swallowed his cock. “Whoa, whoa wh – ohhhh!” The slight jerk of his hips, the surprised look on his face, his urgent release…

“This isn’t going to go away,” I told the rowboat hanging from the rafters. I unzipped my fly and unfurled myself. I was mostly hard.

Thinking of MacCready felt dirty. He was my traveling partner, a loyal friend. How could I think of him like that? But I did. I did think of him like that. What would he have said if I had told him to get on his knees? What would he have done if I had flipped him over on that mattress, stuck his ass up in the air and just – 

I groaned, stroking myself long and hard. 

I had been aching all day. We didn’t stop to take many breathers that day, but when we did, I would turn away, close my eyes, and wish my erection away. Honestly, MacCready was the hottest goddamn thing I had ever seen in the apocalypse. Considering this was a realization that came about ten hours ago, I wondered if I wasn’t being too hasty. But I mean…come on, the guy was smoking. And I was so needy.

I’d had two ‘encounters’ since crawling out of the vault. The first was Mayor Hancock. He and I got high and got each other off. Of course, I knew the mayor was a slut and he knew I was in the same boat, so things weren’t awkward afterward. We just kept on travelling like usual. Just, with more handies. (And not the robot kind.) The second encounter was with Mel, that guy with the creepy robot who wouldn’t stop flirting with me. And since it was little, old desperate me he was flirting with, I let the guy blow me. Ah, regrets.

But there was something different about MacCready. He wasn’t a fling like Hancock or a regret like Mel. He was a young, attractive, funny, intelligent man, whose loyalties were just as admirable as that tight little ass that he – 

I grunted and blew my load off the dock. I then tucked myself away and felt like trash.

Still, the day got easier. I figured that MacCready felt the same way I did in terms of wanting to put the whole thing behind us and just move on. We got something to eat from Phyllis and continued our journey toward the Prydwen. 

“Think we can make it to Diamond City tonight?” asked MacCready as we departed the marina.

“Eh, it’s a pretty straight shot. Seems feasible.”

It was. We chatted and joked along the way, a little awkwardly at first, but we seemed to fall back into our routine soon enough. There was a small outbuilding with a couple greenskins, and this time we even made eye contact before doing our flanking routine. By the time we arrived at Diamond City, things were pretty much back to normal. We grabbed a beer at the Dugout and split our loot before retiring to our very separate rooms. 

The next morning, I hit up Nick and Piper, and the four of us had breakfast at the noodle stand. MacCready flirted with Piper, to which she replied, “Oh, MacCready. Never in a million years. So what’s new, Blue?” She twirled her noodles with her fork.

“Nothing. Taking some stuff back to the Prydwen.”

“Huh. You still think they’re worth the effort?” mused the detective.

“Hell, I don’t know,” I replied, sounding a little more exasperated than intended. “I’m just trying to prevent a war from breaking out.”

“Blue, they’re already at war,” explained Piper. “You know how the Brotherhood feels about synths and ghouls.”

“And the Institute,” I added. “Destroying the Institute is their primary objective.”

“Alright,” said Nick, playing along with my sad excuse. The polymer fingertips on his left hand met with the metal tips of his right, a habit he took when he was explaining things to people who needed a good explainin’. “Let’s say you get Liberty Prime up and running, and somehow it manages to avoid blowing up the entire Commonwealth. Let’s say Prime wipes out the Institute as intended. Do you really believe the Brotherhood of Steel is going to stop there, or will they make up some sorry excuse so that they can continue to ‘fight the good fight’” – air quotes – “and wipe out whatever synths managed to escape that hellhole?”

I sucked in my lips and stared bleakly into my ramen.

“Ah, come on, Valentine,” said MacCready with a mouthful of noodles, “just let him eat, will ya?”

Nick didn’t usually listen to MacCready, but he considered his words for a moment before saying, “Eh, I probably sound like a broken record. Hell, probably look like one, too.” Piper giggled.

I couldn’t eat anymore, though. Why was I going back to the Prydwen? I mean, why was I really going back? To turn in a couple documents? What kind of bullshit excuse was that? No. I was looking for a reason to keep going back. I hated Maxson and his ‘morals,’ hated each and every power-armored asshole who wanted Danse dead (thank God I convinced Maxson to let the man live in a cave off the grid,) and I hated how much I relied on them. Didn’t have time to get from Southie to Salem? Vertibird. Needed better firepower? Hit up Proctor Teagan, fund the guy who wants me to turn my own Minutemen settlements into a goddamn victory garden. I had no integrity. That realization made me sick.

Before I could make a scene, I made up yet another excuse. “Well, I’d better hit the road.”

“Aw, leavin’ already, Blue?”

“Yeah, Pipes. It’s late.”

“What? It’s like, nine in the morning,” protested MacCready.

“Hey,” said Nick, “I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, you know. I just wanted you to know that you’re not in this alone. You don’t need to stoop down to their level to take out the Institute. You’ve got me, the Railroad, the Minutemen. Hell, you’ve even got the mayor of Goodneighbor playing for your team. Just send half his town into the Institute and they’ll all pass out from the fumes. Though, that might be considered an act of bio-warfare.” 

I couldn’t suppress my smile. “Thanks, Nick. It’s…it’s a lot to think about.” 

The reporter, detective and I exchanged goodbyes, and just as quickly as I had arrived at Diamond City, I was back out in the ruins. MacCready and I headed toward the Fens.


	5. Inside Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready talk politics before Nate screws everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why insert yourself into MacCready's business when you can insert yourself into MacCready? You aren't thinking creatively, Nate.

“Thoughts?” 

“’Bout what?” asked MacCready, popping a gumdrop, courtesy of Miss Wright, into his mouth. We passed in front of the Boston Public Library. I must have cleared the raiders of the area a half a dozen times with MacCready, Nick, Piper, Danse, Hancock, Cait… Fortunately, today was quiet. “Oh,” MacCready realized before I could answer, “you mean about what Valentine said? Come on, boss. Did you actually listen to that garbage?”

My insides twisted the same way it did back in Diamond City when Nick said all that stuff. “It isn’t garbage…”

“Yeah, maybe not the first time you heard his spiel, but gimme a break. He’s said his piece. Now he’s just rubbing it in. Far as I’m concerned, you can do whatever the hell you want. You’re not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” I asked, glancing down at the seam on my coat. Inside out. Figured. I stopped, heaved a sigh, and set to work putting my coat on the right way.

MacCready shrugged. “It’s not like the Brotherhood doesn’t have its perks. It’s good to have people to watch your back. Isn’t that why you joined the Minutemen?”

“Still can’t believe you supported me when I did that,” I confessed, grunting as I set my heavy pack onto the ground. I began to peel off my sleeves.

“You can’t be serious. When have I not supported you?”

“…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Well you’re certainly outspoken about the Railroad and my undercover work for the Institute.”

“Hey, I can support you and still have opinions, alright? So do you want them or not? I haven’t forgotten our arrangement. I’m a hired gun. You say the word and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

I sighed. “No, MacCready. God. You know we’re more than that.” He stopped being aggro. In fact, he stopped altogether. He was standing still, like a radstag caught in the headlights. “Look,” I said, before he could question what exactly I meant by that. God knows I didn’t have any straight answers. “I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. I want to know how you feel. Honest.”

“Well, alright,” he replied, sounding a little hesitant. That hesitancy left once he got going. “I don’t think you’re stupid, but if I did, it’s because you’re working for the Institute. I know you say you’re undercover, and I believe you, but it’s still dangerous; I kinda understand the Minutemen. If me and my family kept on getting raided, I’d wanna fight back too. Besides, they’ve got your back; Same with the Brotherhood. I know Maxson’s kind of a stick in the mud, but they’ve got some serious firepower. Why not use it?; And the Railroad?” He scoffed. “Waste of damn time if you ask me.”

“How?” I asked.

“You kidding?” He gave a sardonic laugh. “They don’t have weapons or ammo or anything. They keep getting pushed out of their territory and all they’ve got to show for it is some bravado and stupid costumes.”

That…actually made me a little angry. “We’re helping synths – people – escape the institute. They’re slaves, MacCready.”

“Not all synths can be trusted,” he argued. “I’m not saying that people like Valentine or Curie don’t exist out there, I’m just saying – “

“And Danse.” I turned the sleeves of my coat rightside-in.

“Fine, and Danse, talk about sticks in the mud… I’m just saying why risk your neck for – “

“And Phyllis Daily, who gave you food yesterday.”

MacCready wrinkled his nose. There was fire in his eyes. I was winding him up. “You don’t even know if she’s even a real synth! She could just be crazy!” I jerked my coat onto my arms and scooped up my backpack, shooting MacCready daggers. He shot them right back. “Hey, you asked for my opinion and I gave it to you.”

“You know,” I said, taking a step toward him, “people deserve a chance at life. Human, synth, or ghoul.”

“I don’t care what they are, strangers are strangers,” he protested. “You’re always handing out our food and water to people you’ve never met, and for what?”

“What if one of those strangers was Lucy?!” I snapped. He shut his mouth and glared. “What if someone in that metro station could have helped save her, and instead, they ignored her?!”

“How dare you bring up Lucy like that…”

“No, you listen to me, what if – “

“No, YOU listen,” demanded MacCready. His voice bellowed so loudly that I could have sworn it echoed. Off of what, exactly, I wasn’t sure. Now it was his turn to step forward. “You don’t talk about my fucking wife like that!”

Fuck? Did he just say fuck at me? Oh no. What had I done?

“Don’t you ever, EVER – “ He was practically screaming.

“MacCready…”

“No! You tell me why I shouldn’t walk away from this partnership right now!”

“Don’t.”

“And why the hell not? Using Lucy against me like that…you know, you’ve got some nerve, pal!”

“Just, okay, listen…”

“You’ve got ten goddamn seconds, Nate.”

He had never said fuck. Never called me Nate outright. This was bad. This was so, so bad. Shaking, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, five seconds had passed and I realized I’d better talk quick, and I’d better not screw this up.

“R.J., I’m sorry.” He was still glaring, eyes wilder than I’d ever seen them…but he didn’t stop me from talking. I took another quick breath. “Look, I screwed up. That was wrong of me. I don’t think I can explain myself in ten seconds, so I’m going to ask you to meet me at the Third Rail tonight. You still got that room?”

“Yeah…” he answered. “But why should I?”

“Please,” I begged. “Take some time to cool off and meet me there at seven. I know I don’t deserve it after what I said, but I really need some time to get my thoughts together if I’m gonna be honest with you. I…I can’t do it standing here like this.”

His lips were thin, shoulders straight. He looked like he did whenever a raider got too close and he smashed the butt of his rifle into their face. Hell, it probably would have been easier if he decided to beat me up. I would have let him. I deserved it. 

His eyes softened just a touch. “Alright,” he agreed with obvious skepticism. “But you’d better get your shit together by tonight. I’m serious. That was really screwed up.” He turned heel and walked toward Goodneighbor, stomping off and leaving me in the dust.

I looked down and breathed a sigh, catching my own reflection in my Pipboy. I glared at myself. “Idiot.”


	6. Talking Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate confides in Hancock, who encourages him to be honest with MacCready. One of these men deserves MacCready, and it's not Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would I ship Hancock and MacCready? Hell, I might just go there. Ain't no ring on Nate's finger. Anymore. 
> 
> Too soon?

“The hell do I say to him?”

“The truth.”

“But the truth sounds stupid.”

“Nah. Your loyalties? Now those are stupid.” Hancock took a hit of his jet and passed it on to me. I held out my palm and waved it.

“No thanks.”

“You sure? It’ll take the edge off.”

“Not feeling great.”

Hancock shrugged and finished off the inhaler before tossing it onto the table with a clack. He leaned back on his couch at the Old State House and propped his boots up on the table. Releasing a long, pleasant sigh, the mayor tilted his head back, soaking it all in. At least one of us was enjoying ourselves. It was 6:36. Time could not have moved more slowly, even without chems. 

“Hey,” said Hancock, “you want my two cents? The old synth is right. You got plenty a people who got your back. You don’t need to kiss ass to Maxson and his army of walking toasters.” I gave a single chuckle. “You know what else, though? MacCready is wrong about the Railroad. You keep doin’ that.”

“I…thanks? Sorry,” I sighed. “I don’t know what to say. MacCready said he can support me and still have opinions.” 

“Damn straight. Opinions are like assholes.”

“Everyone has one?”

“And most of them are full of shit,” he added for good measure. “But MacCready? You want him in your corner, trust me. If anyone would take a bullet for you, it’s him.” He tilted his head to the side. “And me, obviously.”

“Gee, thanks,” I teased.

“Anytime, Sunshine. Now, I know MacCready can be high strung, but he really respects you. You must have really set him off for him to threaten to walk on you like that.”

I took a deep breath and told Hancock exactly what I said to MacCready, about his wife, how I had used her as leverage against him to win an argument. When I was through explaining, Hancock’s black, almond-shaped eyes widened. He was usually calm and collected, but that stirred something in him.

“Oh boy,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“Sunshine, ya don’t use a man’s family against him.”

“I know.”

“So why’d ya do it? That ain’t like you.”

“Because, Hancock, I can’t think anymore. My mind is going a million miles a minute,” I pleaded, as though I expected him to hand over an emotional-repair-kit that could fix me. Fix my actions. Fix everything. “Nothing has been the same since I lost my husband and child, okay? I never asked to be put on ice. I never asked to be a part of this shitshow of a world. I never asked for any of this. And somehow, I’m the only one doing anything to keep the goddamn peace. Even you want to see people burn – no offense – but me, I just want the Brotherhood, the Railroad, the Institute, everyone to just stop and think for five goddamn seconds and realize that there’s more at stake than their agendas. People are dying out here, and instead of getting help, they’re getting shit on, and frankly, I’m sick of it!” I inhaled sharply.

Hancock listened to every word. Then he said, “It’s too much for you.”

“Of course it’s too much!” I wailed. “I haven’t had a minute to myself to mourn my fucking husband!”

Hancock clapped his palms together, extended his index fingers and thumbs, and gave me double finger-guns. “Boom. There it is, Sunshine. That’s what you need to tell MacCready.”

-

I gave Ham a subservient sort of nod, descended the stairs, and stopped at the bottom of the Third Rail. I figured I’d grab a drink before heading to the VIP room, maybe calm my nerves. No such luck. The mercenary was perched at the bar making small talk with Whitechapel Charlie. I swallowed. Hard. I was waffling between overconfidence and negative confidence the entire walk over. On one hand, I knew that MacCready and I were tight enough that he couldn’t possibly want to end our friendship. Well, our partnership, I guess. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he worked for me. On the other hand, if our relationship was turbulent enough that impromptu BJ’s were a thing, then maybe he would actually toss me to the curb. And the scary part? I couldn’t even blame him. If he did choose to end our partnership, it would be my own fault.

I cautiously approached him from behind. “Hey.”

MacCready tilted his beer back and took a final swig. He sat the bottle down with a clunk. “Comin’. Alright, Whitechapel, we’ll talk business later.”

“We’d better talk sooner if you want that bonus,” threatened the Mr. Handy. 

MacCready’s smile faded as soon as he turned away from the barkeep. “Let’s go,” he whispered. 

I followed him into the VIP room, past the mannequins and down the hall. MacCready took a seat on his favorite couch and snagged a fresh beer from his side table. He pulled his multi-tool from his duster and popped open the beer with his bottle opener. Ordinarily he would have offered me one – or I would have just grabbed one – but today I just stood there, awkwardly swaying on my feet. 

“Well?” he prompted. “You want to talk. So talk.”

“Can I sit?”

“Won’t stop you.”

I breathed deeply and sat next to him. He looked less than thrilled. His posture was slack, leaning casually on the couch and sipping the foam that pooled at the mouth of his bottle. Somehow, this felt worse than anger. This? This was complacency. It was like I didn’t even exist to him anymore.

“Alright,” I began. I didn’t get into specifics. I just told him how I felt, about how the death of my husband crushed me. How I had never been so alone in my life. About how even though travelling with MacCready made things worthwhile, some nights were so goddamn lonely that I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. Some nights it was like I didn’t exist at all, which was part of the reason his complacency felt so vile. My husband’s death and the loss of my son made me into somebody different, somebody who I didn’t care too much for. “And the only time I can tolerate myself is whenever I’m with you. I…I feel like we’re friends, MacCready. Friends are a part of who you are, and you’re the only part of me that I don’t hate anymore.” 

MacCready was silent.

I felt like such a doofus. Such a huge, huge doofus. I thought I could save the Commonwealth. I couldn’t. Then I thought, well at least I have friends, but then I had to go and wreck that too. And now I was groveling, and none of it, none of it, was going to bring my family back from the dead. My breath hitched in my throat before I could stop it. My head dropped involuntarily and I sobbed. Quiet, heavy sobs I couldn’t contain. 

“I’m sorry, R.J. I will never, ever say anything about Lucy again. I swear.”

I suddenly felt stupid for ever calling him a kid. MacCready was a man. He had a family. A past. He had loved. He had lost. And he was loyal to his very core. If I hadn’t already believed that before, I sure did when he said, “Come here, idiot,” and pulled me into a tight embrace. 

The next few minutes of my life were humiliating. I sobbed quietly in his arms. I always took note of how small he was physically, but at that moment, he felt a million times bigger. I was so heartbroken over my family. Months of pain and trauma had built up, and I was finally getting it all out. When I was finished, I pulled back, wiped my eyes, and said, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he answered. “I mean, I’ve told you all about how hard it was for me losing Lucy and you supported me every step of the way. I get it. Just, please don’t say anything like that again.”

“God, never.” I released a heavy sigh that had built up in my chest. “Believe me, this is one of the hardest lessons I’ve ever learned.” 

“To be honest, I didn’t realize I was that important to you…”

“To be honest, I’d feel more comfortable with a rocky ceiling above my – OW!” A sharp pain blossomed in my arm.

MacCready retracted his fist and grinned. “I make that comment twice and you won’t let me live it down.”

“Oh ho…yeah, it was more than just twice. Seriously, though. I’m sorry for what I said. The thought of losing you was the most afraid I’ve felt since…” I trailed off. 

MacCready’s adam’s apple dipped when he swallowed. “You don’t mean…since your husband…?”

I nodded. Yeah. That’s what I meant.

“I…wow. I uh. I don’t know what to say.”

Neither did I. I placed my hands on my knees at sat there quietly. What was there to say? I stared at my lap for a time, listening to the muffled sounds of jazz on the other side of the door, the twang of electricity in the light above, the swallow of beer. “Are we okay?” I asked.

I heard MacCready drain his beer, followed by the thud of the glass against the table and an almost inaudible belch. “Yup. We’re good.” 

I nodded. Then I stood up. 

“You heading out? Not gonna stick around for a beer?”

I shook my head. “Got a room at the Rexford. Can we meet up tomorrow? I…I think I need some sleep.”

“Sure,” replied MacCready. “You sure you’re gonna be alright?”


	7. Casual Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready has had a lot on his mind ever since Nate's impromptu BJ. And now he wants to talk about it. But it's just talking, riiight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course he thinks you're cute, MacCready, you read Grognak and put bullets in your weird little hat.

I didn’t feel alright, but at least I felt like I would be. That was enough to get me from the Third Rail to the Rexford. But not before buying a half-empty bottle of whiskey from Whitechapel Charlie.

“How’d it go?” asked Hancock. I ran into him on my way up the stairs, already deep into my drink.

“Hell-oooooo!” 

“Jeez. Not good, I take it?”

“Actually, it was pretty good,” I nodded. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah? Told you he’d get it.”

“You were right.”

“Not to brag, but that’s usually the case.” Hancock adjusted the collar of his red, frock coat. “Anyhoo, glad to hear you guys are on the mend. What about you, though? That a fresh bottle?”

“Fresh enough.”

“You wanna slow down?”

“Let me have this, Hancock.” I reached up and clutched at his collar. “I need this tonight.”

“Jeez, okay, okay. Just watch the merchandise,” said the mayor. He gingerly took my hand and removed it from his coat. Ham looked like he was about to smack me. “Just take it easy, okay? You, me, and booze go great together, but it’s less of a party when it’s a twosome, ya dig?”

“Are you telling me I’m a sad drunk?”

“Good, you’re sober enough to get the message. Keep it that way, will ya? If I have to drag you out of the gutter in the morning, I’m gonna be real disappointed.”

“Hancock, I love you, and I love Goodneighbor, but no way in hell am I getting anywhere near a Goodneighbor gutter. Drunk or not.”

Hancock smirked. “You got a filthy, little mouth on you, you know that?” He leaned in close to my ear and added, “Might have to remind me what it feels like next time you’re sober.” He walked past me, but not before a rough, sly hand grazed my crotch. That same hand patted me on the ass for good measure. God damn, Hancock.

-

Someone knocked. I gasped and crammed my dick back into my briefs. Shit. I flipped my wrist over to check my Pipboy. What time was it? It had to be late. I scrolled through my menu and punched DATA. It was only ten. But if I met with MacCready at seven, then I had been drinking and jackin’ it at the hotel for three hours.

“Coming, no pun intended,” I muttered. As I stood up, I staggered. Oof. That did not feel good. I glanced at my empty bottle of whiskey. Boy, would Hancock be pissed. Wait. What if that was him at the door checking up on me? 

I scrambled for the bottle. I still had time to slip it under the bed and act sober. He would never have to know. I grabbed it, or tried to, but instead knocked it onto the floor. “Shit!” I tried again, balancing it back onto the table and forgetting all about my plans of hiding it. I ended up knocking it over again. “SHIT!”

The door creaked open and my guest snickered at me. I finally just kicked the stupid thing across the carpet before scrambling back to my feet. I turned around just in time for my stomach to fall out of my ass. “MacCready.” 

“Hey,” he said, “mind if I come in for a little bit?”

“Sure.” I took a seat back on the couch. My head span a little. I done fucked up.

MacCready closed the door and took a seat next to me. “Jeez, if I offered you a smoke this whole building would go up in flames.”

I laughed too loudly and criticized myself for it. Nice horse laugh, drunko.

“Anyway, listen. I meant to bring something up earlier but you left before I could. You sober enough to hear me out?” 

I wasn’t. “For sure,” I answered. “Care for a drink?”

“Hey, I’ll always drink on your dime, boss,” he smiled.

I picked my bag up off the floor with a grunt and searched it for a fresh bottle. I must have spent forever rifling around because MacCready sighed and grabbed it himself. “It’s right here,” he said, unzipping the back pouch. “You keep your whiskey where you keep your ‘hidden’ bag of potato chips.” He held out the bottle and I snagged it.

“You knew about the secret chips?”

“’Course I did. You know, for being a part of the Railroad, you’re not very stealthy.” He set the bag back on the floor.

As if on cue, I dropped the bottle. MacCready groaned and picked it up for me, opening it and practically shoving it into my mouth. I took it and swatted his hand away. 

We sat side by side and drank in silence. “Think that’s my limit tonight,” he said after a while. He was always a lightweight, but damn.

“You okay?” I asked.

He took one, last swig, wiped his mouth and handed me back the bottle. I sealed it. “Oh, yeah. Just a lot on my mind. You?”

I nodded. “Same.” There was another stretch of silence. “What was it you wanted to ask me about?”

“Well, it’s not really a question,” he began. “It’s just…we never really talked about what happened the other day.”

“Oh. You mean…” God damn it. I knew what he meant. I felt like I was on a roller coaster; fine one minute, and feeling my stomach turn inside out the next. “I dunno, MacCready. What is there to say?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. It all just happened so fast.” He raised a brow, then glanced over at me. “I guess I was just wondering if you regret it. So…do you?”

I answered honestly. “No.”

“Me neither,” he confessed.

Yet another stint of silence. MacCready tapped his foot, sitting on the edge of the couch deep in thought. I was feeling queasy and reached for my bag to grab a bottle of water. This time, I did it on my own without incident. Go me.

“I really did wake up like that, you know,” he continued. “But then I stayed there, even after I woke up. I don’t really know what I was trying to do. I was hard, and you were there, and the second I went to get out of bed and get dressed, you rolled over, and, well…” 

I shrugged. “You didn’t ask to wake up with a boner boring into my ass.”

“Yeah, but I could have rolled over sooner.”

“I’m not sure what to say here, MacCready. I…aren’t you straight? I just figured, since…” I didn’t want to say her name again. Not even in the appropriate context. I still felt guilty about what I’d said earlier.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’ve never really been attracted to another guy before. It’s not like I’d be ashamed if I were, but…”

“So are you?”

“…”

I waited.

“Am I what?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Are you attracted to me?” 

I looked into his eyes, my brown ones against his blue ones. His mouth was open but no words were coming out. He had that radstag-in-the-headlights look again. 

Finally, he said, “I can’t stop thinking about you like that. Not since…”

“Me neither.”

“R-really?” he stuttered.

“I always respected your distance,” I explained. “Straight guy with a family? Come on. I couldn’t act on that, regardless of how hot I think you are. Then, suddenly, we had a moment, and well…”

“You think I’m…?” he trailed off, foregoing the use of my adjective of choice, and asked, “Really?”

I looked him over. His plume of ashen hair was tucked back into his silly hat, the collar of his duster brushing against his goatee. He swallowed and his strong jaw twitched. A single button was undone on his duster, revealing the gray shirt he kept underneath, the one he was wearing the morning we had our affair. “Yeah, R.J. You’re pretty hot.” 

“I-I don’t know…I mean I never thought of us that way…” He tilted his head to the side. “Well, I guess you should know I feel the same way.” I smiled and leaned in closer. “But it’s complicated,” he added. I paused, one arm draped around the back of the couch behind his head, the other holding the whiskey. “Boss, I spend every waking minute with you. I’ve told you things I’ve never even told Lucy. And for the first time in years, I feel happy. I guess that’s why I went off on you earlier, when you said those things about Lucy. I’m just so damned afraid of losing you, of losing everything we have together.”

I gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. We’re past that. I’m just saying that putting myself out there like this is risking our friendship, and that’s not really something I wanna gamble on. Not after all the shi- er, stuff we’ve been through together.”

My heart sank. “We can experiment without it changing anything, MacCready.”

“But you can’t know that for sure.”

I set down the bottle, offered a pleading glance, and asked, “R.J. What do you want right now? If anything could happen between us, what would you want knowing that nothing would change in the morning?”

He exhaled. “Well, I guess you know what I’d want.”

“No, I don’t,” I insisted. I truly didn’t. That little shit was confusing. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh, come on, do you think I really came all the way over here to rent a room?!”

“You had…intentions?” I teased.

“Ugh. Hopes, not intentions, assho- JERK.”

“And did these hopes maybe have something to do with me?” I placed my hand against his thigh. He took a deep breath. 

“You could say that…”


	8. The Fall of the Silver Shroud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready get some good use out of the Hotel Rexford ;) A desperate Nate seeks attention around Goodneighbor. Hancock seeks Nate, but finds a drunken idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLAYER 3 JOINS!

“What if I promised you…” I slid my hand higher “…that even if tonight went really, really poorly…” and higher “…I wouldn’t let it get in the way of our partnership.” It settled against his crotch. He let out a soft gasp. “Same routine.” I slipped my hand between his thighs. “Same caps.” His legs spread. I squeezed. “Same us.” He groaned lightly. “Worst case scenario, we have an inside joke about how things got really, really gay that one time. Best case scenario…” I ran my hands back up his thigh and began to unfasten his pants. “…best case scenario is one we can play out whenever we’re both feeling cold and lonely out there. And R.J….I know you get lonely.” Pants undone, I slipped my hand inside, cupping his semi from the outside of his boxers.

“Oh God…”

“That sound like an acceptable arrangement?”

MacCready gave a brisk nod. He wasted no time in slipping his arms out of his sleeves. My left arm – the one on the back of the couch – helped him take off his duster. It was tossed aside in a hot second.

The dim, electric light flickered above as I pressed my left hand against his chest, forcing him to lower himself onto the couch while I worked him against his smallclothes. He was already hard. Once he had leaned back far enough that his head touched the armrest, his hat tumbled to the floor. I gave him a quick stroke. His eyes glinted. He swallowed. Breathed. Sighed.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I blew you,” I confessed, giving his balls a squeeze.

“M-me either,” he replied, voice wavering at my touch.

“I jerked it off the dock at the marina when you weren’t looking.”

“Oh, I saw.” 

I stopped. “You…saw that?”

“Like I said, your stealth can use some work. You’re pretty loud.” He chuckled. “Kept that mental image with me all day. Sure hope Vadim changes his sheets.”

I twitched in my pants. Did MacCready really watch me, and then get off on that image? That was a whole new level of depraved. And damn if it didn’t turn me on.

“You’re terrible,” I said, and gave him another stroke from bottom to top.

He bucked his hips and groaned. After a few, arduous strokes, two hands grasped at my shirt. He may have been scrawny, but damn if he wasn’t strong. MacCready pulled me on top of him. We were groin to groin, chest to chest, and finally, mouth to mouth. He pushed past my lips with his tongue, forcing it inside of my mouth. I took it willingly, reveling in his warmth and the feeling of his goatee pressed against my chin. I jerked my hand out of his pants and steadied myself by latching onto his waist.

I explored it, lifting up the corners of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate to buck his hips. This broke our kiss. I held his waist with one hand, pulling his hips toward me and grinding down against him. A low rumble came from his throat followed by a more desperate mewl. My other hand traveled up the tuft of hair below his navel, tracing its way up his chest. 

I could barely contain myself and I had barely touched the man. The feel of his tongue, my hands sliding up that tight, gray shirt of his, it was almost too much. My dick was straining, begging for friction. I forced his waist against the couch and pushed against him more urgently. 

I humped him a couple more times when the friction of my movements tugged down the front of his boxers. The head of his cock peeked out. It was wet. “God damn,” I sighed. Tension built and coiled in my belly. He was so close already. I was getting there, too. I involuntarily shuddered and rocked my hips. His bare head touched the hard-on that strained against my pants.

MacCready failed to stifle a moan. “Oh God, that feels good…”

He tried to thrust his hips, but my hand made sure that he couldn’t. He was forced to lie still, dick teased out of his control. Watching him struggle, hearing him moan made me so hard.

MacCready closed his eyes and tried to shift. He couldn’t. Forced still, I bore down against him, arcing my thrusts so that my stiff started at his base and teased him all the way up to his throbbing head. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, R.J.,” I breathed, and reversed my movement, feeling him from his bare head all the way to his rock hard base. My pants dragged his precum all the way down the front of his boxers. 

“Oh my G – ah, yeah, ahhh,” he moaned.

He was loud. Good. 

Our chests were already pressed together but I pressed tighter. My thrusts were short, imperative thrusts, each coaxing another noise out of the merc. He sounded so good and I was getting so close. But there was still so much I wanted to do to him, so much I wanted him to do to me. I was about to slow down when he moaned, “Don’t - - ahhh, don’t stop….”

And so I didn’t. He was really. Fucking. Hard. I knew he wouldn’t last, but I couldn’t deny him, not after he had so many doubts. If he was willing to give this a try, then I wanted to make him feel really, really good. Our future affairs depended on it. 

I still held his hips down with my shaking palm. I humped faster, release imminent. MacCready gave a long, quavering groan. He tried to buck his hips. I didn’t let him.

He took short, small breaths. I did the same. I think I was sweating. He sure was. He smelled amazing. His hard cock stiffened as I rocked my clothed dick back up his length. “Ffffuuu- ahhhhh…” He sat up on his elbows. He stiffened. Jerked. Throbbed. Moaned. Then I moaned. He moaned deeper. I moved faster.

MacCready froze. His cock spasmed and he erupted onto my pants. I humped harder. He came again. “Ah yeah! Don’t stop!” he yelled. I kept pace, offering short, quick bouts of friction, then took a sharp breath and pulled back. His cock collapsed onto his abs. It jerked. “Ohhh,“ he moaned, and came again, this time onto my shirt. I lowered my abs, mess and all, back onto his cock and moved my belly against it until I had milked him of every last moan and ounce of cum he had left in him.

He lied there panting. Somehow, I had managed to (A) coat myself with every last drop of his cum, and (B), not actually find release of my own. 

After he composed himself, I helped MacCready button his pants. “That was amazing,” he said. I was about to agree when he asked, “What about you? I mean, I dunno what you’re into, but if you want me to suck you off or something I think I can try…”

“No no no,” I laughed. I wasn’t about to suggest he do anything like that. It was his first (well, technically second) time with a guy. Plus, he was taking a huge risk with me. If everything worked out, there’d be time for that sort of thing later. “Tonight was about you.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna, uh, step outside and get some ice from down the hall. After I change.” I rummaged through my bag. Damn. Forgot to do my laundry. And wouldn’t you know it, there was only one outfit left. It would have to do. I began to change clothes.

MacCready snorted. “This is the apocalypse. There is no ice. Also, wow, you’re wearing that?”

I buttoned my slacks, tucked in my shirt, and adjusted my ascot. “The Shroud cares not for your fashion advice, lowly mercenary. Now, retreat back into the shadows from whence you came!” I put on the hat, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and made for the door.

“Wow, okay, that’s…uh. Look, whatever you do, Shroud, don’t get too drunk. We’ve gotta get to the Prydwen tomorrow.”

I nodded and left the room. I didn’t want to think about the fucking Prydwen, or the Brotherhood, or that twat Maxson. I wanted to drink. And so I did, bringing the bottle to my lips as I stumbled down the hall and tried to figure out what I wanted to do about my insistent boner. By the time I found the bottom of the stairs (receiving quite the look from Claire) a thought occurred to me. A thought about a man who, mere hours before, stopped in his tracks just to feel me up on the way into the bar. Of course.

“Hancock…”

-

“…is busy,” said Ham. I glared at him and looked down the stairs of the Third Rail. Sure enough, the mayor was preoccupied with a gaggle of thugs on the landing. I could tell they were talking business.

“Well, shit.”

“If it’s that important, talk to Fahrenheit.” I had never heard him say so many consecutive words before. I almost thought I imagined them.

“Ah, ha, ha ha ha,” I laughed awkwardly. “Don’t think she can help me find what I’m looking for.”

Ham blinked. I could tell he got it, because he made a deplorable, little sigh, and focused his gaze elsewhere.

Okay, so Hancock was busy. Fine. But there had to be someone in Goodneighbor I knew well enough to get off with, or on, or under…didn’t really matter to me at that point. I was so drunk, and so very, very horny. Every time someone looked at me, I thought, what if? Even Ham, and I could sooner imagine sleeping with a Gen 1 synth than Ham. At least the synth might talk to me once in a while.

That’s when it hit me. I knew exactly who in Goodneighbor would be desperate enough to fuck me.

-

The man cackled. And I mean really cackled. “Oh man!” he wheezed, wiping the tears from his black eyes, “That’s a good one, Shroud! Really had me going there for a minute.”

I gasped. Then I gasped again for good measure. Then I cleared my throat and said, “The Shroud does not jest, Kent. Even I must take a break from fighting crime, to, er, polish my trademark submachine gun…if you catch my drift.”

“Oh,” sighed Kent, equal parts disgust and sympathy. “You really are serious. Wow. Sorry, Shroud. Believe me, I think the Silver Shroud is the best, but I’m more of a Mistress of Mystery guy if you catch my drift.”

“God damn it.”

Kent smiled his usual, understanding smile. “Hey, don’t feel bad about it Shroud. We’re good.”

-

I did feel bad, though. I felt really, really bad about taking my pants off in front of Kent and using the Shroud to (try and) get laid. And so, I found a miserable, little alley, walked to the back corner, and pulled my dick out of my pants with a sigh.

-

I woke up with a sharp pain in my side. I groaned. 

“Didn’t I just get through tellin’ you I’d better not find you in a gutter?”

I blinked. Ugh. What time was it? And why was that silhouette’s head shaped so funny? Oh. Hancock. The ghoul came into focus. His midnight eyes were cold and narrow, glare cutting deeper than that combat knife of his.

I went to say sorry. Instead, I said, “Urgh…fuck me…”

“Not like this, I wouldn’t. Get up.” 

Hancock offered a hand. I didn’t deserve it, but I sure as hell took it. I got up and staggered, wiping the dust off of my trench coat. Jeez. For a Boston spring, it sure was hot. It had to have been noon at that point, and my coat was way too warm for that weather. Where did the nice, cold rain go? Seriously, I was sweating bullets. My head swam.

“Gonna puke?” asked Hancock.

“No.”

He raised his brows - - well, where his brows would have been if he had any. That look spoke volumes. He was calling me a liar.

“I’m not a liar,” I insisted.

“Never said you were.”

I ignored this truth and said, “I’m gonna take these technical documents, go to the Prydwen, and shove them up Elder Maxson’s asshole.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Actually, that’s EXACTLY what I’m gonna - - ”

I was interrupted by the urgency in which my throat clamped down on the bile rising in my esophagus. Hancock just stood there, calm as ever. I slammed my fist against my mouth, praying to God and all that was holy that I could keep it down long enough to prove him wrong. I was NOT going to puke. Somehow, this worked. I swallowed.

“ - - do!” I finished.

Hancock actually laughed. “Well, alright. Look at you, finally stickin’ it to the man. Think I’ll tag along and watch, if that’s alright.”

“Psht, yeah. ‘Course.”

“Good.” Hancock gave me a swift pat on the shoulder. My insides jerked. “And you’re sure you’re up for travelling? Not too hungover?”

“I’m great,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Cool. Gonna go grab my gear. I’ll meet you out by the gate.” Hancock gave me another hard pat and I thought I was going to lose it. But I didn’t. I kept it together, adjusted my crusty ascot, and took a deep breath. Time to collect my stuff, my partner, and the mayor. If we skirted the shores of Chelsea all the way through to the airport, we could arrive by sundown. 

Today was the day I said ‘fuck you’ to the Brotherhood. And nothing was gonna stop me.


	9. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, MacCready and Hancock go to the Prydwen. Except they don't, because Nate is hungover and holds them all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least the man finally did his laundry, though, amirite?

I must have been standing there forever, head throbbing every single time my boots turned over in the dryer. I glanced up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Oh good. Another one of those headaches.

MacCready was chatting up Daisy downstairs while I kept my eyes on the wash. I guess she really did sell everything, including washer and dryer rentals. Hancock was out in the plaza, flipping his knife dexterously between his digits. He was standing right where he stood when he stabbed Finn, that asshole who tried offering me ‘insurance.’

“Insurance,” I scoffed.

What a day that had been - - the same day I met MacCready, actually. I was fresh out of the vault, and Goodneighbor was the first town I stumbled across. I still remembered the sound of Hancock’s knife sinking into Finn’s gut. The ripping of leather. Squish of the blood. Thud of the body. And then Hancock’s cold, hard glare. 

Why did that turn me on? Even through my hangover, the thought of Hancock just…mm. I sighed.

The dryer buzzed. I groaned when I got up. At least I was finally out of my hot trench coat. I collected mine and MacCready’s clothes, packed them away into my bag, and changed into my jeans and leather armor. Okay. That didn’t feel so bad. I wasn’t too hot and the leather was breathable enough. Maybe I wasn’t as hungover as I thought.

-

I barely made it to the bridge out of Chelsea – that bridge where the U.S.S. Constitution was before moving slightly to the right – before I had to stop and double over the railing. Knowing I had learned my lesson, Hancock, supportive as ever, gingerly placed one of his rugged hands against my back and said, “It’s alright. Let it all out.”

And I did. All over the bay. And the railing. And Hancock’s boots.

His thumb grazed my lower back. “Take your time.”

As if I had a choice. There was no stopping it. Every time my belly hitched, I swear my life flashed before my eyes. I thought I’d drank booze, not ninety-proof, distilled regret.

I kept at it until Hancock asked, “Jeez, how much did you drink?” There was genuine concern upon his voice. I always compared his sultry rasp to whiskey. The thought made me retch again.

I heard a familiar scoff come from a-ways down the bridge, followed by a puff of smoke. “Eh, he’s been worse. He ever tell you about that time we got drunk at Taffington?”

“No,” said Hancock, obviously intrigued. 

I shot up from the railing and wiped my mouth on my sleeve before pointing a finger at MacCready. “Hey!” My voice sounded like shit. “We agreed never to talk about th – hrk…” 

Hancock forcefully grabbed my ponytail (not the first time he did that) and slammed my head back over the railing before I could soil his boots again. I continued to recite hangover poetry into the sea.

“So, when you catch your breath, you wanna tell me why the Silver Shroud was lying in a gutter covered in cum?” I shook my head no. Still attached to my hair, I felt him shrug. “Eh, fair enough.”

I breathed heavily, gasping for air. Hancock loosened his grip and gave my shoulders a brisk massage. I moaned. “Jesus Christ…”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure there’s some warped bastard out there who gets his rocks off on this sort of thing. Everything’s a fetish these days.”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“Yeah, why?” chirped MacCready. He extinguished his cigarette with his boot.

The mayor teased my hair and shrugged. “Anyway, let’s hit the road. Can’t wait to see you stick it to that tool Maxson.”

I didn’t have the wherewithal to stick it to anyone or anything. That’s why I fired one, maybe two measly shots at those bloodbugs up the way, and resigned to letting MacCready snipe that Gunner on the bridge to East Boston. I don’t know if it was the heat, the hike, or watching the ships bob in the distance but I was getting nauseous again. I was about at the end of my rope and it was only three in the afternoon.

Still, I pressed forward, slogging up to my ankles in water as we passed through a huge puddle. I couldn’t even concentrate on what I was going to say to Elder Maxson.

“Whaddya say we take a break, boss,” said MacCready as we passed in front of the prep school. 

“I can keep going.”

“Just ‘cause you can doesn’t mean you should. You look terrible.”

Hancock yawned and stretched. “Not a bad idea, vaultie. Almost time for a chem break, anyway. You ever put that Zeller asshole in the ground?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at the school. I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Me and Cait took care of him a while ago. Area should be clear.”

“Let’s check it out, then,” said Hancock, and made for the front doors.

Everything was right where Cait and I left it. A raider corpse here, some bullet casings there, a triggered trap over yonder, et cetera. The corpses weren’t in great shape, and the smell hit my nostrils like a brick. “This was a terrible idea,” I groaned, and buried my face in my sleeve. 

“Oh, quit whining,” said MacCready, stepping over a corpse and heading down the hall. “Gotta be some place around here that doesn’t reek. Up top, maybe?”

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s where Judge Zeller’s ‘throne’ is.” I took my arm away so I could make dramatic air-quotes. “Got a bed up there too, if memory serves. Mind if I catch a couple winks?”

“Sure looks like you need it,” laughed MacCready, and tapped me on the nuts. I retaliated by socking the kid in the arm.

We rounded the corner and ascended the stairs. There was another corpse hanging across the banister like garland. The strings to deployed grenade bouquets dangled from the ceiling like tinsel. Red spattered the walls. The world’s worst Christmas.

Zeller was right where I ended him, face down in a pile of his own brains. I sighed and grabbed his ankles, hauling his corpse out of the room and down the hall a ways. When I came back into his throne room, Hancock was rifling through some papers on a desk, and MacCready was bootless, massaging his own, aching feet.

I let my bag fall to the floor with a thud and collapsed onto my stomach onto Zeller’s old mattress behind a janky, standing divider. The thought of using the same bed of his wasn’t pleasant, but I would have done anything to lie down for a minute. I buried my face in my arms and closed my eyes.

I could hear Hancock rifling around, flipping through some pages. Suddenly, MacCready shouted, “Oh man, I love comics!”

“Eh, Guns and Ammo is the only mag for me,” stated Hancock. There was another paper sound, a rush of air, and a clap. Hancock had tossed it over to MacCready. “Ghoul’s best friend tends to be a book. No one else usually talks to us. Never a problem I’ve had myself.”

“Yeah, the real trick is getting you to shut up,” teased MacCready.

The mayor chuckled. He poked around the room a little while longer before I heard him say, “Well, it’s about that time, kids.”

“Gonna go shoot up in the hall?”

“Nah, not my style. Think I’ll shoot up in the cafeteria. Could use a snack. Speaking of snacks, keep an eye on this one, huh?” I didn’t need to see him to know that there was a sultry expression painted across his rigid face. His boot steps got further and further away until the only sounds in the room were the sounds of MacCready shifting in his little, plastic school chair, and the scuttling of radroach legs somewhere inside of the walls.

I rolled over onto my back and tilted my head to the left, then to the right, stretching out a stubborn kink. More footsteps appeared. They were so soft I almost didn’t hear them. I opened my eyes just in time to see MacCready take a seat next to my mattress in the narrow space between me and the divider.

“How’s your stomach?”

“Eh, I’ll shake it off,” I smiled. “Been through worse.”

“Like at Taffington?”

I chuckled. “Like at Taffington. God we were drunk. I still can’t believe you ended up sleeping with Cricket.” 

“Hey, will you keep your voice down?” snapped MacCready, looking around like Hancock would overhear him or something. “That was embarrassing. In fact, it’s the only reason I didn’t make fun of you today, assho – ugh, idiot.”

“Do you remember how you got her to sleep with you?”

“…”

“If memory serves, it was some quip about showing her your magnum.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he sighed. “I still can’t believe she paid for that. I mean, I get that she’s a trader and all, but jeez.”

“Wait,” I laughed, “Cricket PAID you?”

“…”

“In caps?”

MacCready swallowed.

“Oh my God. MacCready. You never told me you were a working man!”

“I’m not!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. I loved getting him riled up like that. “L-l-listen, it was one time, and I was super drunk. I can’t even believe you were sober enough to remember that.”

“If I’d known, I would have hired you sooner.”

“Ugh,” he snorted, popping open his new copy of Astoundingly Awesome Tales, courtesy of Hancock. “Get some sleep, will ya?”

I tittered and shut my eyes. As much as I was enjoying teasing MacCready, he was right. It was only three-ish, and if I got in a good power nap then we could still make it to the Prydwen, tell off Maxson, and be done with the whole ordeal by suppertime. I didn’t realize how tired I was until the fluttering pages of MacCready’s comic and the light breeze against the broken shutters coaxed me into a deep, deep sleep.


	10. "Rob" Co.'s Line of "Mr. Handys"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate takes a break, and MacCready lends a hand. And maybe some other parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would never get freaky in an abandoned school full of raider corpses, but Nate is a sad, depraved individual. Wait...I wrote him like this... :/

I woke up hard. Like, really hard. So hard I think I moaned out loud. I adjusted my hips and reached for my dick. Nah. Now wasn’t the time to masturbate. Better just tuck it away and get to the Prydwen. My hand touched something. Something that moved against me. And fuck, it felt good. “MacCready?”

He was stroking me, and as soon as he realized I was awake, he looked me in the eyes and did it again.

“Christ…” So that’s why I was on fire. Damn. The merc’s strong hands were poised around my cock, working me up and down. This - - I needed more of this, and fast. I clutched at the mattress and rocked my hips into the air. His fist collided with the base of my shaft.

I sat up on my elbows and looked at him. He must have started to feel horny when I was asleep, because he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, pants around his ankles, a strand of lust already dripping into his green, checkered underpants. 

“Good Lord that is hot,” I whispered in between heavy breaths. My comment was met by a couple of quick pumps of his fist that made me lick my lips and shudder. What a way to wake up. 

“Gotta hurry,” he whispered, “Hancock is bound to be back any minute.”

“By all means,” I answered. I had been so goddamned touch starved, dick aching every single day. His touch was heaven. His strong fingers slid up and down, down and back up again, working my cock to full erection. He gave his own erection a pump and moaned. 

“Couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Nope. Was thinking about what you did to me back in Goodneighbor,” he explained, panting as he fucked his hand. His breathing was rapid and only getting faster. I thought he might come right then and there.

“And did that make you hard, MacCready?” I gave him a sultry stare and humped his hand.

“So hard.”

He pumped us both over and over. He was moaning, thrusting his hips against his hand. But I wasn’t ready for him to come. Not yet. Instead, I batted his hand away and grabbed his waist, tackling him down onto the bedroll.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, starry-eyed and hard. I tugged his pants off of his ankles and tossed them aside.

“Spread.”

“O-okay.” He did so, and I set to work immediately, taking his cock into my mouth. He gave a long, hard whine and throbbed against my tongue. He panted as I held him down and let him fuck my mouth. Then, I cupped his balls and took his dick to the back of my throat, swallowing around him, which elicited a loud whine from his throat and a hard thrust from his hips. I grabbed them and forced him to fuck my mouth until his moans bled into each other in one, long, sound of pleasure. But before he came, I stopped and pulled back.

“Why’d you stop?” he pleaded, hips rocking against nothing. 

I crawled on top of him. “Had to get you wet first,” I said, and wiped my mouth. I shoved two fingers between MacCready’s lips, forcing him to suck them. He caught on soon enough, sucking from tip to knuckle. I pulled them from his mouth with a pop and reached behind me, slipping them into my ass and stretching myself wide. I moaned.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, “are you gonna…?”

It had been a while, but I wanted him. Needed him. With expert dexterity, I grabbed his hard dick, and aligned it with my asshole. As soon as my fingers left, they were replaced with MacCready’s head. Just the tip. He gasped and thrust. 

“Whoa!” I laughed. “Easy, easy…” 

He gave a frustrated grunt. “Hard to hold back…”

“I know, R.J. Patience…” I hummed, and lowered onto his cock with a throaty groan. “Mmm…right there…”

MacCready tilted his head back and gasped as he filled every last inch of me. I tensed, squeezing around him. This drew a moan from the mercenary, as well as a gentle, gentle rock of his hips. His head – that marvelous, twitching head – moved right up against my prostate. I buckled. “Fuck!”

“A-are you okay?” he gasped. 

In return, I groaned. Hard. I clutched my belly and took it, took the pain with the pleasure, and started to ride him. My ass was right against his balls, erection splayed across his stomach. I humped against him. Every time his abs brushed against the underside of my cock, my ass squeezed around him. 

“Oh my god…!” he moaned.

“Didn’t I tell you this would feel good, R.J.?” I asked, my question fueled by lust - - so unlike anything I ever would have said to him before all this. “Don’t I make you feel good?”

“You make me feel so good!” he breathed, my heavy frame rocking against him, taking every last inch. He hit my prostate again and I ground down harder, bending over and clutching his sides as I forced him to take me deeper. I had reduced him to “ahhh”s and “ohhh”s in seconds.

That cock of his was driving at my sweet spot again and again and again, my own in agony against his belly. I pumped faster, trying desperately to find the kind of friction that would sate me. When MacCready reached out and grabbed my erection, I knew I was going to lose it. That much was evident by the hard “fuck!” that pushed past my lips. 

This time, MacCready bucked up and looked me in the eyes, just like he did before we flanked a group of raiders. It was this hard, confident look, one that told me he was ready for anything. He licked his lips and squeezed my cock. “You like that, boss?”

I think I melted. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I like that, baby.” I couldn’t stop rocking against his dick. Judging by the way he was sweating, jaw clenching, and that ragged breathing, he was close.

He gave me a long, teasing stroke and I shuddered. I was on fire. Absolutely on fire.

“Wow, you really do,” he awed, thumb tracing over the precum that glistened at my head. I twitched and pulsed under his grip. Now, he laughed. “Wow, all this time and you just needed a little attention.”

I nodded. No! Shit! Why did I do that? I was in charge! …Wasn’t I?

“Come on, boss. I wanna hear you moan.”

I couldn’t take it. His cock inside of me, throbbing. My walls around him, squeezing. Aching. Building. Coiling. Oh God… I couldn’t moan, though, could I? I was turning red, humiliated, but getting closer. God, I was hot. So, so, so so SO hot.

MacCready bucked. I clenched around him and felt him against my prostate again. It made my wanting cock pulsate in his hand. This time the pre actually spilled out of me. Never had that happened before. But it was happening now, rolling down my length like a river. He gave me a couple shakes and coaxed another drop from me. “Fuck,” I whispered. I was so needy that my balls ached.

Next time I clenched on him, he moaned. When he did he picked up the pace. I was the one riding him before, but now, those small hips of his were lifting me up off the ground. I was under his control, now. What came out of my mouth next was not a moan, but a whine. A long, steady whine.

“There you go, come on,” he cooed, glazing my dick with my own precum. He was going faster, fingers squeezing around me. He hit my G-spot again and I could not have stopped myself from begging him even if I wanted to.

“Fuck me!”

He chuckled between hard breaths. “Yeah? Looks like somebody’s about to come, huh?”

I nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded, stroking my cock, building that tension whose coil was about to spring open. “Say it now.”

Oh God. He wanted to hear it because it was getting him off, because once I said it, he was gonna… “Fuck, R.J.,” I whined. It was right there. He stroked. God. He stroked again. I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t. Oh god. “I’m gonna cum!” 

On cue, I jerked in his grip. Cum gushed forth onto the mercenary, one spurt after the other, drawing hard moans from my throat. His hands, hips, stomach, the mattress, me, everything was wet. I was still coming as I clenched around him and felt a hot sensation fill me. 

“Come on!” he growled. 

He was spilling inside of me. I clenched again, shuddered, and whimpered, worked until I was messy and overworked. MacCready slowly pulled out of me. Hot liquid spilled onto my legs. And then…we stared at each other.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, not bothering to correct his curse.

My gaze fell. We were absolutely disgusting; sweaty and sticky, perched on some old raider’s smelly mattress laden with jizz, his rotting corpse thirty feet away. “Yup. Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right.”

MacCready gasped. I think I did the same. Both of us whipped our heads around so fast I thought we might have gotten whiplash. A familiar ghoul stood with his arms folded at the foot of the mattress. 

“You know these walls aren’t sound-proof, right?”


	11. Letter of Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate waffles between sending in a letter of resignation and putting a cap in Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would this guy do without Hancock there to back him up? Eh, probably not make hasty decisions involving murder. But whaddya gonna do? Murder, probably.

I had been through a lot. Foster care, the military, marriage, the death of a spouse, the loss of a child, the entire fucking apocalypse, and yet, as I straddled the mercenary with a penis up my butt covered in cum on a dead guy’s mattress, staring at the ghoul’s amused smile, THAT’S the moment when I reevaluated my entire life leading up to that point.

MacCready shoved me off. I rolled into the divider like a bowling ball and knocked it over. It clapped against the wooden floorboards like a gunshot. Dust stirred. 

I clamored to my feet, stepping on the divider which slipped and threw me back to the floor. Where else should I have landed but my face? I cursed and tried again. Nailed it this time.

MacCready was working his clothes back on, but it was a moot point. I had pretty much ruined his duster. He must have realized this half way through dressing, because he finally snarled, tossed it to the floor, and yelled, “A little privacy?!”

Hancock grinned wider. “Sure. I’ll be outside. Take your time.”

-

“Hey!” 

I stopped reaching for the door.

“Look, before we leave, we need to talk.”

I held my breath. “You wanna put the brakes on, don’t you?”

MacCready adjusted his muscle shirt. Well, my muscle shirt. It was too big on him, tucked into his military pants. His tee shirt and duster? Ruined, and put back into his bag. 

“No, it’s not that.” He put a hand against my waist. My heart skipped a beat. Wow. Schoolboy crush much, Nate? MacCready got a serious look in his eyes and said, “You have to stop coming all over my clothes.” 

I exhaled and laughed. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. Other than that, and, well, Hancock creeping up on us, I had an amazing time.” 

MacCready stood on his toes and pressed a kiss against my jaw. This elicited a low purr from me before he moved past me and reached for the door. I watched his ass sway as he met Hancock outside. Couldn’t we just go back and have sex again? I didn’t care too much for my fate: the inevitable quips from Hancock. And I knew how he operated. He’d keep his mouth shut for now, and just like he did with that knife of his, he’d wait until he had the perfect opening before ripping right in. 

-

The walk to the airport dragged on. My companions were quiet, which meant I was left alone with my own thoughts. Dangerous, that. The Prydwen was hanging high against the horizon, close enough that I could hear its whir. My hangover was a lot better but my stomach was still in knots. After all, I still had Maxson to contend with.

Maxson. That fucking tool. He was MacCready’s age and yet he held the title of Elder. I tried to picture MacCready with a title like that, but even being mayor of Little Lamplight seemed unreal. The kid did better on his own, scouting, sniping, and keeping his head down. I think MacCready was too scarred and jaded to command anything; he seemed to care more about caps and self-preservation than anything else. Not that he was incapable of caring, mind you, but he kept his friends close and damn the rest of the world. 

Anyway, I couldn’t just drop off my letter of resignation although I genuinely thought about it. I still had time to turn around, go to Diamond City, hit up Piper, and print something. But if I turned around, I would change my mind. I couldn’t just hand in my signaling grenades and power armor like a police officer did his badge and gun when he resigned from the force. I couldn’t go up to Maxson and yell “fuck da Brotherhood!” No. Maxson would remind me where my loyalties lied, and tell me that even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t, because I was their only way into the Institute. I was trapped.

I stopped on the peninsula just before the airport. Hancock and MacCready followed suit.

“You got a plan?” asked MacCready.

“Fuck no.”

“I thought you were gonna stick those documents up his ass,” said Hancock with a hint of disappointment.

“Shut up, I’m thinking…” But I couldn’t think. All I knew was that it was time to cut ties. I had to. I think I was developing ulcers. “The Brotherhood isn’t gonna let their human teleportation device just leave. Christ, what do I do?”

“Kill Maxson.”

I looked over at Hancock. I expected MacCready to do the same, but instead, he lit up a cigarette and blew smoke into the pink twilight. 

I chuckled. It was sardonic at best. “You aren’t serious.”

“And why not?” asked Hancock. “How many synths has that bastard killed just for existing? How many of your settlements has the Brotherhood taken crops from because he can’t fend for himself? How many innocents has he cut down because they stand in the way of his precious technology?” I didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Shitty excuses for even shittier behavior. And I don’t have to remind you about what he almost did to Danse.”

“He would have killed him if I hadn’t stepped in,” I whispered.

MacCready handed over his cigarette. He never liked Danse – actually, none of my companions did – but they respected me and so they respected Danse to a degree. I took a long, long drag.

“Damn straight,” continued the ghoul. “He had knights scouring every last inch of the Commonwealth just to put a bullet in his brain. And Danse was about to lie down and take it. That ain’t how a man should go down. If you hadn’t stepped in with your pretty words, Maxson would have ended him. That kind of behavior don’t change. So I say it’s time to end this…once and for all.” He ended with a low, dramatic rumble.

I exhaled smoke and passed the cigarette back to MacCready. “Your thoughts?”

MacCready shrugged. “Eh. Pretty risky taking out their leader like that. Plus, it doesn’t really solve anything. Aren’t you next in line for the throne, boss?”

“Aw, hell. He’s right. I don’t want to be in charge of their stupid blimp.”

Hancock smirked. “You sure? Maybe you could convince them to fly somewhere else. Ever hear of a kamikaze?”

I shook my head. “Won’t work like that. Let’s say we do take out Maxson. Then what? They’ll spend forever looking for him. Even if I was in charge in the interim, they’d stay put on Maxson’s orders. At least for a while.”

“Not forever though,” he pointed out, adjusting his tricorn hat.

“Well I’m not gonna sit around and wait for the Brotherhood to say, ‘welp, Maxson’s probably dead, let’s pack it in boys.’ Get a grip. I came here to end it, leave, and take the fight to the Institute myself.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Hancock. “Well, I still think the best option is to take out their leader. Dissention in the ranks and all that.”

MacCready laughed. “Oh man. He’s right. They’ll scatter like ants without their elder there to bark orders. Besides, the guy’s a tool.”

“On that we can agree. But still, I can’t just KILL Elder Maxson. He’s Elder Maxson. How would I even get away with that?”

“Answer me this,” mused Hancock, sliding a rough arm around my waist. Okay. That was weird. “How do you usually get away with things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Alright, let’s start at square one. You joined the Minutemen. What did you do earn that promotion to general?”

“I rescued Preston Garvey from the Museum in Concord.”

“Sure, but then what? You didn’t earn fifteen, twenty settlements by rescuing some guy in a hat.”

“Well, I dunno, I guess I just offered help. Talked to people. Figured out what they wanted and how I could help.”

“And the Brotherhood?”

“They had what I wanted, so I talked to Paladin Danse and Elder Maxson.”

“And the Railroad?”

“Talked to Dez and Deacon, asked what I could do and figured out how to do it.”

“Bingo. Do you see a pattern yet, Sunshine? Those pretty, smooth lips of yours are real talented. I would know.” He gave my hips a squeeze. MacCready glanced up just in time to see. His cigarette actually fell from his lips and hit the ground. “You’re a smooth talker. Got some real charisma. Use it.” He patted me on the butt.

“O-okay?” I cleared my throat. God, I must have been ten shades of red. “How, though? I’d have to roll a nat twenty on persuasion to get him to even listen to me.”

Hancock squinted his eyes. “A nat what?”

“Ignore him,” advised MacCready. “It’s a nerd thing. Never go to Hubris Comics with this guy, he’ll never shut up.”

In turn, I ignored MacCready. “Look, what I’m saying is that he’s not really susceptible to persuasion. Even if I could get him to open up a little…like…then what?”

“Easy,” smiled Hancock. “Get him alone. Let MacCready take the shot. You up for it kid?”

MacCready picked his cigarette up off the ground, dusted it off, and stuck it back between his lips. “Eh. I’ve killed for worse reasons. If it’ll help you, then I’m all over it boss.”

“I don’t usually condone impromptu assassinations, by the way,” said Hancock. “But this guy needs a bullet between the eyes. You game?”


	12. Ad Victoricum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate has a friendly talk with Maxson down on the beach. Just a normal, PG-rated conversation. Well, until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Down by the baaay  
Where the watermelons growww  
Back to my hooome  
I dare not gooo  
For if I dooo  
My mother will sayyy  
"Nate, you've got a problem.  
Get help."  
Down by the bayyy!

I bucked up and walked onto the flight deck, leaving my backpack and armor behind with my companions. The only thing I kept on me besides the clothes on my back was the laser pistol strapped to my thigh. If I wanted to get Maxson into a vulnerable position, then I needed to extend the same courtesy. I looked into a particularly reflective piece of metal siding. Hmm. I could do better.

I allowed my hair to fall out of its ponytail around my shoulders. I gave it a tease. There was a small bruise on my cheekbone from when I fell on my face earlier. I could work with that. The scar across my nose cut through a constellation of light freckles. I wasn’t unattractive. Hell no. I looked good. People liked me. I could do this. I opened the door to the hull.

Elder Maxson stood as still as a statue, wrapped in his flight jacket. Two, icy eyes stared back at me from the window’s reflection. “Paladin.”

I walked forward, hips swaying in my jeans, shirt half tucked in. “Elder Maxson.”

He turned around, eyebrows furrowing when he caught sight of my disheveled appearance. I had known the man for a few months now, and while I didn’t know him well, I was able to distinguish between his looks of anger and sympathy. Both expressions involved brow-furrowing, so it was hard to tell sometimes.

“I take it you ran into trouble?” 

I offered a casual laugh, leaning my back against the wall. “Are you checking up on me, Elder?”

His brows sank deeper. Frustration. Annoyance. 

“Not a day goes by when there isn’t trouble. But I can take it. That’s why you gave me that promotion, isn’t it?”

He let out a soft grunt. Acceptance. “Indeed. You do what needs to be done, albeit at the expense of my patience.” 

I nodded. “Danse.”

He answered with a cold stare. 

I propped myself up off the wall and took a couple steps toward him. “You still don’t agree with me.”

“Obviously.”

“I get that. You may not believe me, but I understand your grievances,” I lied. “Danse betrayed you. He betrayed us all.”

“Strong words coming from someone willing to take a bullet for that traitorous synth.”

I chuckled. Hoooooo boy I wanted to punch that kid right in his perfectly straight teeth. Give him a little ‘wasteland grin.’ 

“Synth or not, the fact is that he risked his life for a lot of people. Your people. Human people. Think we discussed this up north at Post Bravo. Think that’s when you actually started to listen to what I was telling you.”

“Watch your mouth, Paladin.” His hand snapped from behind his back. There was a hard finger pointing right at my face, as though he could pull an imaginary trigger and end me. “Don’t you forget who’s in charge.”

I held out my palms in surrender. He slowly took his hand back and returned it behind his back. Okay. I could do this.

“I understand. That’s why I came to see you today. I want to show you something, Elder.”

-

He was hesitant, but finally followed me outside. We took a vertibird to the ground and I lead him around the corner where the team of repair-people were working on Liberty Prime. It was dark out now. The night was clear and stars twinkled in the sky. The last hint of ocean-blue evening was descending against the waves upon the horizon. It looked like the workers were just wrapping up for the night. A few footsteps shuffled here and there. A clank of a wrench. The crash of a wave. The hum of the ship. It was peaceful.

I stopped in front of Liberty Prime. “I want you to understand something,” I began. “This? All of this? YOU did this, Elder.” I looked into his cold eyes, my warm ones in deep contrast. “I know you’ve had to make some hard decisions. I know that your decision to kill Danse –” I said covertly, since none of the Brotherhood knew he was alive, “ – was one of the most difficult decisions you’ve ever made.”

“It was,” he agreed.

I swallowed. “Know that it was all worth it.” Now, he swallowed. “I want you to know that I appreciate your trust. You took a big chance on me. This?” I gestured toward Prime. “This is the only thing I have left, Maxson. Ever since…” I let my words trail off on purpose.

He folded his arms across his chest, leather creaking under his motions. “I’m listening, soldier.”

I took a deep, dramatic breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not here.”

He stood there, not quite sure how to react. My guess was that his soldiers didn’t normally confide in him, at least not on a personal level. He actually looked a little uncomfortable. I would describe his expression as ‘constipated.’ Figured, that’s the way he processed emotions. Maybe he was a synth too. Ha.

I took a fake, shaky breath and said, “Come with me.” Before he could protest, I began walking through the ruins of the Boston Airport and down the peninsula. Fortunately, he entertained me.

Knowing MacCready and Hancock were perched in some sniper’s nest nearby, I lead Maxson along the shore of Revere. I could see the ships of the Nahant wharf bobbing in the distance. If I was gonna get him to let his guard down, I needed to let down mine. It didn’t feel good. Subterfuge sucked. But hey, free counseling, amirite? 

“I take it you have a good reason for keeping me from my duties?” 

Your duties include staring out of a window, jackass, I thought. I walked down to the shore. He followed, but his sharp inhale told me he was losing patience. Now was the time. Just had to keep him there long enough for MacCready to line up a shot, wherever he was.

“Can I tell you something personal?”

Maxson said nothing. He didn’t stop me, though. 

“Since I lost my family, I have nothing left, Maxson…” I stared out at the sea, ebbing silently at the shore. I felt like trash using my family’s memory for leverage. “The only thing worthwhile was Paladin Danse, and, well…” I sighed and cast my head down. “Despite our differences of opinion, I know you’re the only person who understands that. I’m…I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here just to tell you that.”

Now, Maxson sighed. It was somewhere between exasperation and relent. “Danse betrayed us all. You, above all people. I know you confided in him.” He paused. “You had a wife?”

“A husband, and a child.”

Maxson fell silent. Rather than say anything, he approached me, standing just to my left. I was jealous of his coat. I was freezing my balls off, and there he was wrapped up in his flight jacket. Screw him for being prepared. 

He stood there with me for a time, listening to the gulls screech and the bells chime on distant ships. Now was the perfect time to take the shot. Where the hell was MacCready?

“I know why you brought me here.”

My stomach dropped. Fuck. Where was MacCready?! I did my best to play it cool. Holy shit. Had he really found me out? Where were my companions?!

He snatched my face in his gloved hand. The leather made a smacking noise. I grunted and held my head still, but he jerked it to the side to make me face him. “Don’t think I’m stupid, Paladin.”

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean, Maxson, I…”

“It’s Elder Maxson. You’ll show me respect.” He tossed me back so hard that I fell into the sand. Oh God. This was happening. MacCready was nowhere to be seen. It was just me, the laser pistol strapped to my leg, and Maxson. He may have been young, but he was terrifying. 

I sat in the sand, extending my palms outward. “I can explain,” I began, one of my palms slyly reaching for my gun. If I had to, I could snag it pretty quick. Quicker than Maxson? That I wasn’t sure of.

“You’ve explained enough. Now get on your knees.”

There was no way in hell I was going to die like that, forced onto my knees in the sand. Fuck that. But I would if I couldn’t manage to get that pistol unstrapped without him suspecting me. I carefully got on my knees. I lowered my hands. Almost there…

Suddenly, Maxson reached down. I was just about to grab my weapon when he wielded his. And no, not that weapon.

My eyes widened. “What.”

He pulled his semi-erect dick out of his pants. 

HO. LEE. SHIT.

So THAT’S what he meant. Jesus. Effing. Christ. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t ready for this sudden-death match that was about to take place, but this I could handle. I still couldn’t believe that entitled prick thought that just because I was gay, he could command me to my knees and take advantage of me. But, uh, he could. Because I would let him. Because I’m that sick.

Maxson grabbed a fistful of my hair and made me look at him. And then, he said the nicest, most courteous thing I have ever, to this day, heard any member of the Brotherhood say: “Safeword is Liberty.” And just like that, his cock was crammed inside of my mouth. 

My eyes grew ever wider. He. Was. HUGE. The hell did he act all uppity for? It’s not like he had anything to compensate for. As I sucked him off, I wondered if Liberty Prime was the name of the robot or the name of Maxson’s dick. That thing was a weapon of mass destruction.

He grabbed my hair with both hands, holding me still and fucking my mouth. Tufts of raven hair scraped against my chin. He didn’t even start slow and let it build; he went right to town, sliding himself right down my throat. 

How the fuck was I supposed to shout ‘Liberty’ with a cockful of mouth? I mean a mouthful of cock? Jesus. I couldn’t concentrate. My head was spinning. This was wildly hot. 

Maxson said nothing, just grunted as he crammed his way down my throat. Did I mention he was massive? I groaned and tried to relax. This was ridiculous. How did this happen? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!

He went deeper and I gagged, pulling my head back accordingly. Maxson jerked my head up to face him. “Did I give you permission to stop?”

“N-no…”

He gave me a stern look. I licked my lips and took his cock in my fist. He grabbed my wrist, fingers digging so deeply into my skin that I knew there would be bruises. He jerked my hand away and went back to holding my head so that he could fuck my skull. He was too big and I choked on him again. But oh my God, it was hot. I moaned around his dick, starting to get a little hard myself. 

I was drooling all over him, Maxson using me as he grunted and groaned. My throat seized and I gagged again. He only screwed me harder and harder. This time, his dick was so far down my throat that my belly hitched. I tapped twice on his leg and he let me pull back. I coughed and dry-retched, feeling like I was going to throw up. 

Before I could say anything, Maxson was behind me on his knees too. He reached around and slapped my mouth, smearing spit all over my lips. “What a dirty, little mouth you have on you,” he hummed. He slapped my mouth again. I wrenched my head back and tightened my lips. Maxson was quick to push past them with his fingers.

He was crazy! Absolutely crazy! But who was crazier? Maxson, or the guy going to town on his fingers, fumbling for the buttons on his own pants?

As soon as he took his hand back I was in pain again, fingernails boring into my scalp as my face was shoved into the sand. I yelped and started to pant. 

“Stay.” 

“Yes, Elder Maxson.”

He grabbed my pants and jerked them down so hard I heard something rip. Two hasty fingers whipped their way up my ass so fast I moaned. 

“What do we say when someone does something nice for us?”

Oh my God, he couldn’t be serious. But he was. He was very, very serious.

“WHAT.” He slammed my face into the beach. “DO.” And again. “WE.” And again. “SAY?” 

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you Elder Maxson!” 

“Good boy. Now lie still.” 

Maxson curled his fingers inside of my ass, hitting my sweet spot that hours earlier was being probed by MacCready. “Oh, fuck!” I yelped. I was hard in an instant, feeling like I was going to come even though I just did hours before. Maxson was strong, stiffening his fingers and jerking them quickly against my prostate. I could tell he had done this before. More than once. I mewled, face crushed against the sand, unable to move.

Next, he pulled out his fingers, leaving me wanting. I wouldn’t be wanting for long, though. I heard him spit, groan, and just as soon as I was empty, I was full again. Except this time, I was more full than I had ever been in my life. I lied there, skewered by his massive dick. How was I even alive?

I’m not gonna lie: it hurt. My ass hurt. My insides hurt. My face hurt. Everything hurt. But somehow, this awful, sick method of degradation was giving me an insatiable boner. So I lied there and took it, completely whoring myself out to the man who – ”

BANG!


	13. Vertibirds, Ships and Exploding Corvegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Gang Disposes a Corpse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boats'n'hoes, boats'n'hoes, Nate's gotta have his boats'n'hoes.

I gave MacCready an accusatory glare. “YOU!”

The merc wrinkled his nose. “Me? What did I do?”

“You couldn’t have waited until after he pulled out?!”

“No! I couldn’t have! I thought it was…er…”

“Non-consensual,” explained Hancock tactfully.

I was seeing red. “Well it was consensual! Very, very consensual!” 

“And rough,” added Hancock with a grin.

I looked over the body on the beach and let out a long, drawn out sigh, tugging at my hair. MacCready nailed the shot, bullet right between the eyes. I don’t even understand how he landed it to be honest. It’s not like Maxson was sitting still when MacCready fired. I hated that I felt so impressed with him. Dark shit right there.

“I’d say we did him a favor,” continued Hancock. “Best way a guy can go out: ass-deep in some hot vault-dweller, and completely painless.”

I buried my face in my hand. Ugh. I hated this. Still, I composed myself and said, “Sorry, R.J. You did the right thing.”

“Yeah, well, I fired as soon as I could. It was obvious he thought it was a trap at first. He was always right behind your head until you guys…er…” He scoffed. “Can’t believe you let him do that to you. Think I’m gonna be sick.” He glared and turned around.

“R.J.?”

“It’s fine,” he said, back turned as he walked off. “Not like we’re exclusive. Just hate your taste. Gonna need a minute to get over myself, boss.” He gave a flippant wave. I heard his lighter click as he went to go smoke. I hoped to God I hadn’t just ruined things between me and MacCready.

Hancock snapped me back to reality. “So, ready to dump the body?”

“Where?” I asked.

“Could toss it into the ocean.”

“No. It’ll wash up here again. I’m the last person people saw Maxson with.”

“Hm, good point. You might wanna head back to the Prydwen one, last time. Pick up an odd job. Make’m think you’re still loyal. Then when they ask you where the elder is, you can say you don’t know, and set out looking for him.”

“And by ‘set out looking for him’ you mean never come back.”

“You got it.”

“That’s pretty conniving, Hancock.”

“Hey. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

His complacency concerned me. I had seen him kill somebody before, but this sneaky crap was unlike him. When he killed Finn, he looked him in the eyes. But this? This was dirty. Too dirty for him, and too dirty for me. I knew this wouldn’t sit well.

“Tell ya what, Sunshine. You go do your thing. Let me take care of shit-for-brains.”

-

Thankfully, I still had those technical documents. I turned them in to Proctor Quinlan, hit up the medbay for my scrapes and bruises, and purchased some more signaling grenades from Proctor Teagan; things I did whenever I was back on board. Had to make it look real. I chatted with a young scribe, and even went so far as to ‘look around’ for Maxson. I didn’t ask anyone if they’d seen him – didn’t wanna look too desperate – but by the time I was done I reckoned that one or two soldiers could at least attest to my ‘honest’ attempt at finding him. I agreed to grab some blood samples for Scribe Neriah and left. 

By the time I got back to the peninsula, my companions were nowhere to be seen. “Hancock? R.J.?” I finally found them peeking over a dock up the way. They were both peering down into the water. I approached from behind, placing a hand on each of their shoulders as I moved in between them and checked out whatever it was they were looking at.

A very naked Arthur Maxson was bobbing in the shallows against the pillars, being devoured by a couple of hungry, softshell mirelurks. 

“Mirelurks? Oof. If I die, please do something else with my corpse. Wait, where’s his clothes?” As if on cue, an old Corvega erupted a few yards behind us, exploding into the night. I watched the plume of fire come to a head before it petered out into a cloud of smoke. “Well. That works.”

-

Hancock and MacCready thought it might be better if I spent the night on the Prydwen. It would look less suspicious if people saw me back onboard around the same time of Maxson’s disappearance, instead of out in the field. Plus, MacCready was still feeling a little iffy about my affair with Maxson. Said he needed some space. I felt pretty terrible about it; not worth it at all.

In the morning, Lance Captain Kells approached me and asked, “Paladin. Have you seen Elder Maxson? He’s late.”

Late? For what, I wondered? I took a risk guessing, but it was well worth it. “For the meeting?”

“Correct.”

“Yes, sir. Just saw him on the flight deck. Said he’d be right there and took off into the airport. If I see him on my way out, I’ll holler at him.”

“Much appreciated. Thank you, Paladin.”

The three of us took the next vertibird out of town. Hancock was quick to man the gun while MacCready tucked his head between his legs. He hated going up in those things. I scrolled through my quest log. There were a million things I needed to do.

I still needed to place one of Tinker Tom’s contraptions up on a high ledge. Not a fan of heights. Hard pass. Preston still needed me to set up a radio beacon at some nondescript location. We already had a bajillion settlements. Plus, any more marks on my map and I wouldn’t be able to read the locations. Pass. Then, I saw it: take out some raiders in Fah Habbah. 

Cool. I could do that. It was far, far away from the Prydwen and Elder Maxson’s half-eaten corpse. Plus, I hadn’t been back there in forever, not since I helped Nick reconnect with his brother. I was sure Kenji would loan me his boat again.

“We gonna keep a good thing goin’?” I hollered over the chop of the blades.

MacCready tilted his head up. “You got something?”

“Take out some raiders. I know the locale. Decent loot to be had.”

“Please. You had me at loot.” He smiled. He seemed to be feeling better about us compared to yesterday. I was sure we’d talk about it – urgh – but I was just glad we were on speaking terms. 

“You in, Hancock?”

“You betcha. Where to?”

“Fah Habbah.”

“Uh, what?” asked MacCready.

“FAH HABBAH!”

Hancock shook his head. “He’s saying Far Harbor. He thinks he’s cute.”


	14. The Holy Trinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long voyage from the Nakano residence to Fah Habbah. Nate, MacCready, and Hancock find ways to pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You - are - a pirate! A dirty, dirty little pirate.

We left the Nakano residence early in the morning thanks to what would be my last vertibird ride. Nat King Cole played in my head as I looked out over the orange colored sky, dark clouds looming against the horizon. It was beautiful. The air smelled of the sea and electricity. 

“Between you and me, I hate being on the water. Makes me seasick,” complained MacCready. We were less than a minute out to sea and his eyes were already darting nervously around the deck. 

Hancock was thrilled though. “Sexy pirate was always going to be my fallback if sexy mayor didn’t pan out.” He was darting from the jib to the ropes to the, uh, crank thingy, to the…well, he was looking at all the cool boat stuff. 

“So where’s the eyepatch then?” teased MacCready, taking a seat on top of a crate. 

Hancock looked over his shoulder and gave MacCready the same, feisty look he gave me that time he tore my pants off at the Old State House and shoved a - - well, anyway. What was that about? Him and MacCready weren’t a thing. Speaking of pants though:

“Hey boss, might wanna change.”

“And whyyy would I do that?” I asked, leaning in the doorway of the cabin.

“Is that not a fashion statement?” asked Hancock. “Would have said something sooner about the rip up your ass if I knew. Sorry.”

I sighed and took my pants off, balancing against the gentle bob of the waves. Upon further inspection, my companions were right. There was a big, fat rip right up the seam of my butt. “Jesus, why would you think this is fashion?”

Hancock shrugged and took a seat at the base of the mast. “Man, KLEO identifies as a woman, Kent relives Thanksgiving 2057 every day, and some nutjob keeps sticking mannequins in my outhouse. Ripped pants is the least weird thing going on in my world.”

MacCready and I laughed and settled in for the ride. Once I was sure the ship was set for a steady course, I joined them both on deck. Hancock was busy with a little, red inhaler, and MacCready with a cigarette. My go-to was whiskey, but I didn’t have any left. Too bad we didn’t have rum. Hancock would have loved to live out his pirate fantasy. I leaned against the railing in my briefs, Hancock still on the ground and MacCready on the crate.

“So, MacCready, something on your mind?”

The merc stomped out his smoke with an odd look on his face. He was contemplating something. Finally, he answered, “Yeah, I guess.” He looked up at me. “So, boss…I think I need to clear the air with you about something. Well, a couple things.”

“Okay…” I couldn’t imagine why he felt the need to ‘clear the air.’ He hadn’t done anything wrong, to the best of my knowledge.

“Last night, after we took care of Maxson, Hancock and I holed up in some little shack by the water, and we got to talking. Then, talking lead to some jet, and, uh…oh man I’m bad at this. Wanna help me out Hancock?”

Hancock finished off his current inhaler, and while he was holding his breath, answered, “I stuck his little ass up in the air and licked him clean.” 

“Wowww, that’s tactful. Thanks, Hancock. You’re a real pal.”

Hancock exhaled his chemmy breath and winked.

I raised my eyebrows. “You did jet?”

“Seriously?” jeered MacCready. “Me using jet? That’s what you’re taking away from this?”

“Oh. Is this about you and Hancock?” I asked. He nodded. “I’m not exclusive, R.J. You can do whatever you want. I guess I am a little surprised that you hooked up with another guy so soon after exploring those interests, but that’s a good thing. Plus, Hancock knows what he’s doing.”

“He can attest,” confirmed Hancock, a sly nod pointed in my direction.

“Yeah,” said MacCready, “he told me you guys were, um, ‘sex…buddies…’.” That was the saddest attempt at concealing his curses I had ever heard.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I asked plainly.

“What? No. Not at all.”

“Really? Because you were pretty pissed off about Maxson, you know, before you blew his head off.”

“Hey, better to blow his head off then to…well…’blow’ his ‘head’ off,” defended MacCready, to which Hancock snorted. “Anyway, obviously my feelings about Maxson are different than my feelings about Hancock. Maxson sucked.”

“And not in the fun way,” added the sexy pirate.

“But hey. There was something else I wanted to talk to you about. And, uh, tell me if this is kind of overwhelming because I know it is for me, but…” 

I waited. MacCready looked so uncomfortable. He literally squirmed in his seat. 

“Well, after I realized you and Maxson were having consensual sex, I thought about it and realized it was kind of a turn on.” 

“Oh?” Now that surprised me. 

“Yeah. I mean, not with Maxson, but I thought that maybe if it was you and Hancock…”

My cock sprang to life. “Oh. Hell yeah.”

“R-really?” stuttered MacCready.

“MacCready, I like you. I really, really like you.” I dropped down to the ground and placed a hand on his thigh…and one on Hancock’s. “If that’s what makes you happy, then I’m more than willing to give it a try. The company isn’t bad.” I gave Hancock’s thigh a squeeze and he gave a whiskey laugh. “Besides, I already took my pants off.”

“O-o-okay, cool. So, you mean, right now? Uhhh…”

“That what you want?” asked Hancock, tossing his inhaler over the boat. 

“Yes!” he answered desperately. “I mean, yes. If…if you want to.”

“Sure,” shrugged Hancock. “Just tell us what you want us to do. Happy to oblige.”

“Oh. You want me to choose? Well, I dunno…” He looked from me to Hancock, from Hancock back to me. His legs were spread on either side of the crate, and without his duster on it was easy to see the little bulge in his pants. “I guess…Hancock, would you go down on the boss?”

Oh, hell yes.

“Sure,” answered Hancock. I gasped when he touched my waist. Part of that gasp was because I genuinely enjoyed his touch, but I may have embellished a little for MacCready. I scooted back so that I was up against the mast, and Hancock followed me, crawling on his knees.

The ghoul’s rough hands traveled up my sides, brushing along my collarbone before edging their way back to the hem of my boxers. I gave an exaggerated little buck of my hips, watching the fire spark in MacCready’s eyes. Hancock pulled my length from my fly-hole. My semi-erect dick spilled into my lap. 

He began to pump me, long, slow pumps that were, in all honesty, mediocre. But MacCready was watching so I arched my back and leaned my head against the mast with a wicked, little moan. 

As soon as Hancock lowered his mouth onto my dick, an authentic noise erupted from the back of my throat. The man sure knew how to use his mouth. He took me better than anyone ever did, relaxing his throat and winding his tongue up my length like a snake. Oh. He was good. 

I inhaled and closed my eyes, placing my hands on the back of his hat. “Yeah, take it all you sexy pirate.”

Hancock’s hand came up to clamp down over my mouth. I laughed so hard I almost cried, which is a weird sensation to have when you’re getting a blowjob. But MacCready didn’t care. When I opened my eyes, he was fingering his dick through his pants and untucking my shirt that he wore. 

Hancock’s head bobbed. “Mph…” I shifted my hips. I imagined what MacCready looked like, ass in the air, Hancock’s mouth clasped around his little hole. It was a nice image. So nice I bucked and groaned. 

MacCready pulled his hard-on out of his pants and began stroking himself. Now that was hot. Every time he stroked, Hancock’s head bobbed up and down, tongue flicking against the underside of my head. It was almost in unison with MacCready’s movements. It was getting me hot.

Hancock reached under my shirt. His tough hands felt up my sides and across my belly before his thumbs tweaked each of my nipples. “Ah, Jesus!” He knew that got me off. He gave them a pinch and I wriggled against his face in my lap. 

The crate creaked. MacCready stood up and took a break from masturbating long enough to snatch my jaw. He lined himself up with my lips and I opened them eagerly. His cock slid past my tongue. I moaned. 

Every time Hancock sucked, I sucked. Each time he bobbed, I bobbed. MacCready and I were reduced to a cacophony of grunts, moans and other desperate noises in seconds. 

The mercenary stood with his knees bent, fucking my mouth as he steadied himself against the mast. His lips broke open and a ragged groan spilled forth. 

Hancock stopped sucking me off. Damn it. I was close, too. He didn’t bother wiping his mouth, just scooted behind MacCready and bent him over enough so that his dick was still in my mouth while granting full access to his ass. Hancock gave him a spank and MacCready moaned.

The ghoul took his thumbs, placed them on either side of MacCready’s tight ass, and spread his cheeks. I knew the moment his tongue entered him because his cock twitched in my mouth and he shouted, “Oh!”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close, thereby forcing Hancock closer as well. I sucked and sucked, and Hancock licked and licked, each of us doing our best to see that MacCready was taken care of. He was stuck between our faces, forced to endure bliss from either end until he was wailing into the foggy, ocean morning.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna come…”

Hancock and I? We got this.

I took him to the back of my throat and bobbed my head, feeling Hancock bob from the other end. Damn. How deep was that sharp, little tongue of his going, I wondered? I was a little jealous. We teased and teased him until he broke, ejaculating down my throat until he was a wobbly mess. Hancock literally had to catch him.

Once we got MacCready back on his feet and he composed his breathing, he said, “Wow.”

That was it. Wow. I mean, he wasn’t wrong.


	15. Greenskin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready hates boats. Now he's out of commission. That leaves Nate and Hancock to explore some of Nate's wilder fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good job, Nate. You got up off your knees in the Commonwealth just to get back down on your knees is Far Harbor. Get a hobby.

Over an hour had passed. We were sailing right along the edge of the storm. Black clouds rolled overhead and our ship was right below their shadow. Rough, choppy waters tossed the ship around like a ragdoll. 

“Thank God he wasn’t the one who swallowed,” I joked.

“No kidding,” agreed Hancock. 

Either of us were propped against the stern making small talk while MacCready, obscured by the cabin, bent over the railing of the bow. We may not have seen him, but we sure heard him, even over the loud engine and crashing waves.

“So tell me, what was it like with Maxson?”

I grimaced. “Oh, it was great until he, you know, died.”

“Before that. The hell were you thinking?”

I snorted. “Thinking? I wasn’t thinking. Once he pulled his dick out of his pants there was no stopping me.”

“Looked like some pretty rough stuff. And I should know. Not like I haven’t bent you over and drove you into the dirt before.” 

I felt a little twitch in my pants. Good times.

“Yeah. It was different, though. It was…degrading.” I smiled.

“You liked it…” whispered the ghoul in his husky voice. “So. What’d ya like about it?”

“Heh. Which part? Being ordered around? Having my face slapped? Gagging on his monster cock?”

“What kind of monster we talkin’ about? Like, from molerat” he held his hands apart, palms facing each other to create a visual scale “to deathclaw?”

“Behemoth.”

“Daaaaaaamn.”

MacCready staggered out from around the cabin. I almost thought he was a super mutant, he was so green. Before I could say anything, Hancock whispered, “There’s a joke about bags of meat here.” I snickered. Every time the boat tossed and turned, he went from steadying himself on the cabin walls to the starboard railing, back and forth, back and forth. It was like watching a pinball game.

“Need a hand?” I shouted over the engine.

He didn’t answer. When a particularly rough wave tossed the boat, he flung his hand over his mouth, retreating to the bow and out of sight.

“Think he’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” mused Hancock. “He’s tough. What about you, though? You need anything?” He gestured down at my fresh set of pants. I was hard in them. Obviously so.

“Nothing to do about it now.”

“Aw, come on, Sunshine.” He leaned in close. “Bet I can get you off before our resident greenskin comes back this way. You game?”

I chuckled. “Tempting, but I’ll pass. I just can’t concentrate with –”

A hideous noise came from the bow, followed by, “Oh God, make it stop…”

“– that.”

Hancock frowned. “Whoa, yeah, point taken.”

-

With a little steadying from me and Hancock, we got MacCready to the Last Plank in one piece. The little room for rent came equipped with a bathroom, which was actually just a bucket and a wash basin. MacCready made quick use of the bucket. Hancock and I exchanged concerned glances.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he wheezed, interrupted by another bout of retching. “I can’t – ugh – I can’t do the job right now…” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I consoled, “I’ll go see if I can find you some Saltines or something.”

“What’s a Saltine?” asked Hancock.

Oh yeah. People didn’t know what normal things were anymore, because this was the apocalypse. Riiight.

\- 

There were no Saltines. There was some stale bread for sale, though, and the local doctor, Teddy, had a sleep aid whose properties as an antihistamine doubled as an antiemetic. Better than nothing. Hancock and I rock-paper-scissored to figure out which of us would be tending to MacCready and who would have the pleasure of emptying out the bucket. Hancock picked scissors. I picked rock. I smiled until he pulled out his actual knife. 

“Pretty sure shank beats rock.”

“I…that isn’t fair.”

“Neither was puking on my boots when you were hungover the other day. What goes around, comes around, friend.”

I won’t go into detail, but it was not a fun task, and it took way too long. I left the pleasant sounds of the chiming ship bells and creaking dock to return to the bar. There was a single bed, and MacCready was draped across it like a dead animal, Hancock at his side. It was almost funny. I set down the bucket and asked, “How you feeling?”

“You know,” he said, lying on his belly with Hancock stroking his back, “I always though Far Harbor was at the end of a peninsula north of the Commonwealth.”

“It’s not called Close Harbor, MacCready.” 

He groaned and turned his head away from me. Whatever. My jokes were hilarious. 

“Sorry about all this,” he said, facing the wall. 

“Don’t be. You take that sleep aid?” 

“Mhmm,” he answered, already sounding tired. He was out within minutes. 

“Looks like it’s just the two of us this evening. Don’t mind splitting the loot three ways if you wanna take care of those raiders, just you and me,” said Hancock.

“Nah. Trappers are tougher than raiders. Besides the fog here is irradiated. And so is the wildlife. And the ferals. And most of the people, come to think of it. Point being, it’s dangerous and I’d rather wait until we can all head out together.”

“Cool, cool. Guess we got the evening to ourselves, then.”

“Guess so.”

“Well, we should let MacCready sleep it off. Got any ideas to pass the time?”

-

“Mmmm!” I moaned, twitching in Hancock’s hands. He massaged my balls with one, stroking me off with the other. I looked out at the sea, standing on that nondescript, Fah Habbah dock, Hancock’s red, frock coat pressed against my back. I wondered what the last general of the Minutemen would have said knowing the things I’d done in his coat.

Hancock’s voice whispered in my ear, crackling like the first embers of a fire. “You’ve been bad, Nate, bending over for the Brotherhood. Don’t you know you belong to Goodneighbor?”

“I’m sorry John, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, almost doubling over. I had been hard for hours, and I was freaking desperate to come.

Funny how when I was with MacCready, I had this deep desire to top. I think it’s because he had never been with another man before. He trusted me, and so I felt obligated to show him the ropes; I was his first man, and that got me off. But with Hancock, it was the complete reverse.

His hand moved from my balls to my throat. He made a C-shape and started to cut off my oxygen. I coughed, moaned and bucked against his hand. 

“Listen to you,” he purred, “’I’m sorry John.’ Pathetic. If I’d known you wanted to feel degraded, I could have just told you how stupid you were. Do you think Maxson ever cared about you? Or do you think he just wanted to see that smooth face of yours get scuffed up by the sand?”

He stroked me faster. I was about to fall over the edge and he knew it too, because I was stiffer than ever, mewling against his hold.

He took his hand back and grabbed the back of my neck, squeezing and tossing me onto the dock. “Get down. Onto your knees.”

I fell. Shit, that hurt. I was sure it would bruise later. I pushed back the pain and got onto my hands and knees. 

“Oh no, just your knees. You actually think I’d fuck you after you let Maxson into that tight, little ass?”

“…”

He cupped my chin. “Answer me when I talk to you, damn it.” His black eyes were on fire. My stomach actually turned. I think there was some authenticity to his words. He was mad at me. Disgusted, even. 

“No,” I whispered, and looked down at the dock. 

“Look at me.”

I didn’t. 

He clawed at my chin and jerked my head up. “Look. At. Me.” Finally, I did as he commanded.

I swallowed and watched as he unfastened his pants. The next few minutes of my life were hell. Memories of Maxson sticking his cock in my mouth flashed through my mind as Hancock jerked himself off in front of me, not even bothering to touch me. He never broke eye contact, just rubbed himself obsequiously until a thick wad of cum collided with my face. He finished on me like it was business, zipped up his pants, and left me kneeling there with my knees and cock aching.

“Come on,” he said, and offered a hand. I took it.

Once I was back on my feet, I wiped the cum off my face and said, “Seriously?”

“You expected something more?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Heh. Too bad, Sunshine. Tell you what.” He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, giving my cock one, final tease. “You go a whole day without touching yourself, and I’ll give you the experience of a lifetime. No. Cheating.” He pulled back and turned away. “Now zip up your pants.”

This…would not be easy.


	16. Cat'o'nine Fails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys get ready to head out and fight some trappers, but not before Nate faces some hard, frustrating consequences based on his past actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Nate. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

The walk back to the pier was awkward to say the least. I kept glancing over at Hancock, wondering how much of his degradation was genuine. On one hand, he was obviously trying to help me explore a kink I never knew I had (at least not to that extent) and on the other hand, he kept bringing up my affair with Maxson. It probably wasn’t about the affair; it was probably about all the ass I kissed when I was with the Brotherhood, and that little stunt I pulled with the elder on the beach was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Truth be told, I felt pretty crappy about it.

Upon returning to the Last Plank, we found MacCready perched at a table eating some kind of fried food. Judging by the way he was ripping into it, I’d say he was recovering well. Hancock and I pulled up a couple chairs.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” I commented.

“Oh mah grd,” he answered with a mouthful of whatever the hell Mitch cooked up. “So humgry. Mrph!” 

I chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

Once MacCready was finished chewing, he looked down at his watch. That thing worked? Huh. “It’s almost five. Got a couple hours of daylight left. That enough time to take those trappers out?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t risk it. Bout an hour’s walk to the north. Gotta factor in fighting and looting, so that would keep us out past dark. The fog gets pretty dangerous at night.”

“Sorry, boss…”

“MacCready, no one is mad at you for getting seasick. This just means we get to catch our breath for a day,” I consoled, and placed a hand on his back. Even touching his back was making me horny. Fucking Hancock, just leaving me there like that. How was I gonna keep it together? I wanted to grab that little merc, toss him onto the table and –

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he relented, tearing back into his food. 

We had dinner, and afterward, I gave the guys the tour of the town. Hancock was obsessed with the ships that bowed in the harbor, the groan of the docks beneath his feet, and the chill of the fog against his hardened skin. Besides, Far Harbor was dark and mysterious. It suited the man just fine. 

We didn’t stay out for long; the storm finally caught up to the island and we all retreated indoors before we were soaked. What a mistake. At least when I was showing them around I was distracted. But me, Hancock and MacCready alone in the same room was more close-proximity testosterone than I bargained for. If I didn’t get rid of my erection, I was going to scream.

Later that night, Hancock looked up from his game of poker with MacCready and glanced at me from across the bar. I was horny and cranky and chose my own booth over their company. I heard him mutter something about being right back before he appeared at my table. I took a swig of my Vim-and-whiskey. “What.”

“You’ve been in a mood since we got back to the bar. What’s eatin’ ya?”

I spread open my legs revealing the outline of my wanton cock. Hancock tilted his head and went, “Ah.”

“So.” I shut my legs. “You just gonna leave me like this, or are you gonna sneak off with me around the corner and rub me off before Mitch sees?”

Hancock put his hands flat on the table, leaned in, and whispered, “Thought I told you no. You gonna make this an issue?”

“…”

“You wanna get off? You’ll do what I say.”

“Seriously?” I hissed. “I can’t even get a little attention without coming?”

“Touch yourself and the deal’s off. Don’t make me tell you again…” That last sentence came out in a low rumble. It was the voice he used when he threatened raiders. It did not help with my erection.

And to make matters worse, Hancock and MacCready got nice and cozy together on the floor while they left me alone on the bed. Sure, I got the bed, but I would rather have slept with one of them. I was actually a little jealous, listening to the hard rain against the roof, unable to sleep, watching them twisted up like a gay pretzel in each other’s arms. 

It must have been three in the morning before I was able to fall asleep. I woke up to a very odd sensation, and an even more peculiar conversation. MacCready said, “Here?” to which Hancock responded with, “Yeah, no, you’re good. Just stand still for a sec.” Something tugged at my wrist.

My head shot up. “What the hell?”

Man, I must have been really exhausted by the time I fell asleep, because I didn’t even wake up while Hancock was hard at work tying my ankles to the bedpost. Now, he was working on my wrists.

Ordinarily I would have let him go through with it, but fuck him. I tugged away. The ghoul was quick, though. He caught my wrist and slammed it back down, tying a final knot in the fabric. Could I have overpowered Hancock? In all honesty, yes. I was the biggest and probably the strongest of the three of us, but certainly not the quickest. Besides, I wouldn’t have stopped him. I wanted this.

I was stretched out in an X-shape. Hancock took the pillow out from under my head, folded it in half, and stuck it back under so that I could get a better view. Of what? Well… MacCready stood at the foot of the bed, stark naked. 

Hancock reached for my hair. I figured he was going to pull it, maybe slam my head against the pillows. Oddly enough, he removed my tie and released my hair. He ran his nails against my scalp, teasing my dark locks. It felt amazing. I was hesitant to close my eyes and enjoy it, though. I knew I didn’t deserve it. No. He had ulterior motives. 

He gave my hair another stroke or two before stretching my hair tie over his wrist, taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and forcing it into my mouth. I narrowed my eyes and let out a muffled groan. 

“Alright, MacCready. I’m gonna explain something to you. Nate here was a very, very bad boy.” He took two steps beside the bed, boots heavy against the floorboards. Then, he reached down. One hand came to rest on my belly, the other seizing my cock. “Nate is in time-out,” he purred, starting to jerk me off. I was so achy from yesterday that it took about two seconds before I was erect. “That means he’s not allowed to play right now. Hence the socks.”

Socks? I looked down at my ankles. Hey! He tied me up with socks! MY socks! Now they were all stretched out! I protested, but only a series of muted grunts got past the gag.

“Oh man, bummer,” said MacCready. “Guess you shouldn’t have let Maxson take advantage of you like that.”

I was sure Hancock put him up to saying that. Whether letting Maxson take advantage of me referred to the beach incident or my joining the Brotherhood in general was anyone’s guess, but I knew Hancock wasn’t a fan of either.

“Well, hindsight’s a bitch. ‘Course, so is Nate,” said Hancock, continuing to stroke me. I tried to rock my hips but there wasn’t a whole lot of room to move. I was forced to lie there and take it, unravelling at his touch. 

He removed his hand from my belly and slapped my thigh hard. I moaned through the cloth and realized that the orgasmic coil that was building inside of me was already about to come unhinged. I’d been needing to come since yesterday and my body was refusing to wait anymore. I moaned and moaned against the cloth, cheeks flushing red. He stopped and took his hands back. 

I shook my head no but he ignored me, denying my orgasm like he did yesterday on the dock. Instead, he moved behind MacCready. His hands snaked around the smaller man’s torso, feeling every last inch of him; his shoulders, neck, chest, abs, groin… And just to piss me off, Hancock pinched MacCready’s nipples. I don’t even know if MacCready enjoyed it, but Hancock knew I did, and he was forcing me to watch on purpose.

MacCready let out a stifled groan and rocked his ass against Hancock, hips swaying side to side. “Man, I sure wish the boss could join us…”

“I’ll bet, kiddo.” He reached one of his hands down and cusped MacCready’s hard cock, starting to stroke it up and down. “He really turns you on, doesn’t he?”

“Mmm…yeah…” moaned MacCready, rocking back and forth in Hancock’s grasp. 

I was so jealous of the freedom he had. His hips were unbound, and he was free as he pleased to increase the friction and build his release at his own pace. Me? I was tied up and left longing, my lonely erection twitching at the sight of the ghoul and the merc.

“Are you thinking about him right now? Picturing that time you fucked the boss’s tight, little hole at the prep school?”

MacCready flushed. Hancock really had no filter, but MacCready looked like he was enjoying it. He nodded and started to thrust his hips into Hancock’s fist. The mayor eased him closer to the foot of the bed, so close that his knees were against the tall frame. He held his fist still for MacCready fuck, and fuck it he did.

Hancock held the mercenary’s chest from behind while MacCready took full advantage of his hand. His erection slid in and out of Hancock’s grip, faster and faster. I just about lost it when MacCready closed his eyes and moaned, “Ahhh…boss…”

“I bet he feels so good squeezing around your cock, huh?” Hancock’s grip tightened accordingly.

MacCready answered not with words, but with a series of frantic noises. “Ah, ah, ah!” A messy stream of cum splashed against my thighs and balls. MacCready stopped moving and Hancock pumped him to completion. Each time he came, another, shorter stream of jizz spilled onto me, further and further down my legs until they were a mess. 

“Mmmm…” I whimpered, desperate to be a part of their act. No such luck.

“Good boy,” whispered Hancock, placing little kisses along MacCready’s neck. “Now, why don’t you get cleaned up? Think you and me have a breakfast date.”

“Mmmph! MMPH?!” I demanded to know.

“No,” answered Hancock. How the fuck did he understand me? “Bad boys stay tied to the bed. Maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll bring you some leftovers.”

I couldn’t believe this. MacCready washed up in the basin, shooting me sultry little looks the entire time while Hancock gathered the sniper’s clothes. Then, he helped him dry off. THEN he helped him dress. And sure enough, the two left me there, tied up and horny while they went and ate. Un fucking believable. 

Okay. Screwing Maxson was stupid. That I would admit. But did I really deserve all this? 

I lied in there in bed for what felt forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. It was still pretty rainy, but it was getting lighter and lighter outside of my window. We needed to leave. Where the hell were they? Meanwhile, I passed the time thinking about what Hancock and I did to MacCready back on the boat. I twitched, unable to touch myself. Ugh. Torture. Pure torture. 

That’s when the door creaked open. I wrenched my head around. Weird. There was no one in sight. It was stormy out, so I figured some pressure probably forced the door open. Suddenly, there was someone – some thing – on top of me. “MMPH!” I screamed. 

Two large, green eyes stared back at me. Holy shit. It was that damned cat. The one that prowled around the bar and pissed Mitch off to no end. 

“Mrrhhh! Mph mmm!” I insisted. The cat did not oblige. She just sat there on my chest, head tilted curiously to the side before lifting her paw and licking herself clean. Oh my God. Really, cat? Was now the time?

The door creaked open again. “Tink? Where did you get off…to…” 

My eyes widened. I craned my neck around. Debby, the waitress, stood in the doorway. She looked like she wanted to pour acid into her eyes. I didn’t blame her. Was she gonna scream? Flail? Slam the door shut? I waited, heart pounding against my ribs louder than the rain against the window.

Suddenly, she asked, “This consensual?”

I slowly nodded. 

She sighed. “Alright. C’mon, Tink.”

The cat mewed and jumped down from my chest, trotting back to her owner. Debby didn’t give it another thought; she just closed the door and left me to my devices.

When Hancock and MacCready returned, I was all dirty looks. I guess my expression was uncharacteristic enough to prompt Hancock to take the gag away from my mouth. I coughed and sputtered. “What the hell?!”

“Don’t tell me I took this cloth out just so you can complain.”

“I’m talking about the cat!”

“Uh, what cat?” asked MacCready, who closed the door behind him. 

I sighed. “That stupid cat got in here, and Debby came looking for it. She saw me. Like this,” I explained through clenched teeth.

MacCready looked pretty sympathetic. If it were him in my position, he’d be mortified. But Hancock? Hell, he probably would have given Debby a wink so convincing that she might have joined him. The guy had mad charisma. 

Hancock chuckled. “Heh. You experimenting with pussy, now?”

“Not a chance.” I actually smiled a little.

“Well, then it’s just us three again.”

“Again?”

“Oh yeah,” affirmed the ghoul. “You didn’t actually think we were done with you, didja?”

Hancock shoved the gag back into my mouth and MacCready locked the door.


	17. Degradation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock screws up, and not in the fun way. Nate breaks some furniture. Also not in the fun way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nate is the rational one? Is...is this real life?

Remember how Hancock took my hair tie? It now served as a cock ring, and I was rock hard inside its hold. Hancock spit, ran his fist up my dick, and let it go. I struggled to move against him but I was trapped. He did it again, sitting on the edge of my bed, offering only one, grueling stroke at a time. It was killing me. Every time he did it I got close. If he had kept it up, another two, three consecutive tugs, I would have come. He refused to give me the satisfaction.

MacCready looked down at his watch. “Clothes should be dry in about twenty minutes.”

“Good. Gives us a little time to get him worked up again.” Hancock’s fist was at my base. I twitched. He moved his rough palm slowly, slowly up to my head and let my erection plummet to my belly. I twitched. Bucked. Flung my head to the side. Whimpered. I was full to bursting and judging by Hancock’s mood, there was no release in sight. “So MacCready, you ever roleplay?”

“Can’t say that I have. Why?”

Hancock grinned and tittered.

“Oh boy. What have you got planned.” This was more a statement than a question. 

The ghoul left the bed with a creak. “Mmm?!” I protested. Come on! I wanted his attention, even if it was just a little at a time. I was basically dying for it.

Hancock whispered something into MacCready’s ear. The merc’s eyes flung open like saucers. Whatever Hancock was telling him was…kinky. MacCready whispered something back, and then Hancock did too. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying and it was driving me nuts. Finally, MacCready nodded.

“Alright. I’ll give it a try.”

“And you understand the safeword?” 

He nodded.

“And the non-verbal signal?”

Uh, what? Why would he need to use that? That kind of stuff was for BDSM, more along the lines of what Hancock and I messed around with.

“Yeah. I get it. So…you want me…here?”

“Right. Down on your knees. Gonna make sure your first blowjob is real memorable, kid.”

Hey. Wait a minute. I narrowed my eyes. I was supposed to be the one MacCready blew first. I mean, I never talked to Hancock about it, but I felt like MacCready and I had something special. Don’t get me wrong, I was really enjoying our group sessions, but R.J. was different. It was hard to explain. But he was…well, he meant a lot to me. Was I being too possessive?

MacCready knelt with his back to me at the foot of the bed. Hancock opened up his frock coat and unbuckled his belt. My eyes grew narrower. I involuntarily growled. And for a second there – just a split second – I almost tapped my foot twice against the bedframe to get Hancock to stop. MacCready was mine. I shared him out of the kindness of my heart. How dare Hancock take advantage of that.

“Alright,” said Hancock, pulling his dick out and giving himself a few strokes. “I’ll be Elder Maxson, and you be Nate.”

MacCready was breathing a little hard. I think he was nervous. Come on, Hancock, I thought, this is too much. It’s too much for me to watch, too much for MacCready to handle, and you know it. But when I saw MacCready nod and heard him give a suspenseful swallow before plunging the ghoul’s dick into his mouth, I refrained from tapping.

I relaxed a little when I saw Hancock tossing MacCready’s hat aside to stroke his hair. He didn’t even move his hips at all. He let R.J. explore his cock and take his sweet time. I exhaled against the gag. Okay. That was alright. 

MacCready only licked at first, tasting Hancock’s rough cock. The ghoul let out a little groan, which I knew was for MacCready’s benefit. Hancock wasn’t the type to make a lot of noise, save a grunt here or a raspy breath there. He wanted MacCready to know that he was pleased. Good. Good… That’s how I would have done it. 

“Alright, now hold still,” said Hancock. MacCready did. Hancock rocked his hips and forced his head into the mercenary’s mouth. In return, MacCready gave a warbly moan. “You good?” asked Hancock.

“Mm hmm,” moaned MacCready, mouth occupied by Hancock’s dick.

“Good. Because remember, you’ll do exactly what the Brotherhood tells you to do.” He pushed deeper into MacCready’s mouth, eliciting a muffled noise from him. Hancock looked my right in the eyes, holding MacCready’s head and sinking deeper and deeper. “Even if it means kissing ass and sucking dick.”

Gagging me was a smart move. If I could have, I would have spit right in his face and rubbed it in. Fuck him.

Hancock pulled himself out of MacCready’s mouth and held out his hand, helping the merc to his feet. MacCready wiped his mouth. “You don’t want me to do more?”

“Nah,” replied Hancock, adjusting his hat. “Not gonna ruin your first time with sadistic bullshit. There’s time for that once you’re more comfortable. That being said, I’m gonna need to you give Nate a good stroke or two, make sure he’s still edging for me.”

MacCready gave an awkward chuckle. “Damn, and I thought I was mad at him.” He did as he was told, leaning over the bed and pumping my cock in his fist. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. That felt so good. My dick throbbed against his touch and rekindled the fire that stoked my imminent release.

Hancock walked over to me. I blinked. The ghoul looked right at me and said, “You reap what you sow, Sunshine.” MacCready gave me another stroke. At first I thought I was gonna need to come, but something in Hancock’s eyes distracted me. I became lost in them and the flames that resided inside. He snatched my face in his hand, clamping over my jaw. “First, you put on the general’s coat and get all the praise you want from your little settlers. Then, you turn around and put on the suit of armor and get to play with your big” he squeezed tighter “shiny” and tighter “guns. How many caps do you take from those power-armored assholes and dump back into your settlements? And how many crops go back to the Brotherhood? Do either of them even know what you’re doing?” 

I swallowed.

“You really have no shame, do ya? Selling yourself out. Throwing away your morals. Ain’t surprising I found you lying in that gutter, wearing a costume and covered in cum. That’s what it’s all about for you, isn’t it? Putting on some fake-ass costume and indulging in excess.”

MacCready stopped jerking me off. Now, he watched Hancock, clearly disconcerted, my now flaccid dick in his hand.

“You sure are full of shit, aren’t you? You tell me you’re being straight with me. With Goodneighbor. With the Railroad. But are you?” His grip grew tighter and I moaned, not in pleasure but in pain. Hancock glowered. “You’re a piece of shit, Nate.”

“HEY!” MacCready shouted. The kid scrambled to his feet and stood tall on his toes like he was trying to drive an angry bear back off into the woods. “What the hell are you doing, Hancock?!” 

The ghoul hummed, a deep rumble brewing at the back of his throat. He looked to MacCready, then to me. “Thought I could deal with my anger the fun way. Guess I was wrong.”

I spit out the gag. I mean, I could have spit it out any time. Hancock did a shit job of sticking it in there. But it was hot for a while.

“Untie me. Now,” I demanded. “We need to talk.”

-

“I can’t believe you used sex as an excuse to make me feel like shit!”

“As if you’re such a saint…”

Hancock and I glared at each other from inside the abandoned house just down the road from the harbor. MacCready was taking care of the laundry back at the bar; we opted to leave him out of this.

“You made a real mistake joining the Brotherhood, you know. You’d better thank your lucky stars you called it quits, because I don’t know how much longer I coulda swallowed your bullshit.”

“Yeah, I get it, I fucked up. Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“Just tell me one thing,” glowered Hancock. “Why the hell did you join up with them in the first place? You could have at least consulted me, first.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Hancock.”

“You know, Nate, I disagree,” he answered. He was usually calm and collected, but now, he was on fire. Impatient. Angry. “You have the guts to call me your friend and you can’t even give me one good reason for your behavior?”

“Fine!” I shouted over the rain. “It was because of Danse!”

“Danse? You joined the Brotherhood of Steel because of Danse?” He obviously didn’t believe me.

“Yes, okay?! As soon as I met the guy, I knew he was messed up. I read his personal logs back in Cambridge. Over half his squad was wiped out on that mission - - some pointless mission that brass forced onto him. This is Danse we’re talking about; he followed his orders without question. None of the soldiers under his command had to die, Hancock, but they did, because Maxson commanded it.

“Then, Danse was stranded. So I helped him get the tech he needed to get the radio beacon up and running. And the entire time I was helping him, I saw something in his eyes that I’ve only ever seen when I look in the mirror; this sad, dead look a man gets when he has nothing left, and only keeps fighting because that’s all he knows.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you joined the Brotherhood,” said Hancock. I was a little pissed at him for brushing off my vulnerable words.

At that point, I was pacing the room, past the busted countertops and ruined armchairs. “He needed me. Or, someone. What else was I supposed to do? And with everyone so fearful of the Brotherhood and their ideals, I thought that maybe I could be the one to change them. Maybe I could change Danse. Change Maxson. Help them see that synths and ghouls are just people.”

“And how’d that work out for you? And Danse, for that matter? A man livin’ alone in a cave ain’t really livin’.”

“At least I fucking tried!” I shouted, slamming my hands on the back of a dining chair that snapped and crumbled under my weight. “And all this, coming from the guy who murders anyone he disagrees with!”

“Who? Finn? Maxson?”

“Finn. Maxson. The guy you fucking lynched.”

“Tell me they didn’t deserve what was coming.”

“Just because they deserved it doesn’t make it right,” I protested. “At least I really tried to change things.”

“Alright, fine,” Hancock relented. “I believe that. Really, I do. But what I can’t believe is that you stuck around playing house with Danse while they scoured the ruins for tech and cut down anyone who got in their way.”

“I tried to change things, Hancock, but I didn’t know how bad things were. I didn’t know how much power Maxson had over them.”

“Shoulda come to me first.”

“Well I didn’t!” I yelled. “And now here we are! I can’t go back in time, John! I already Killed Maxson. You know I’m gonna have to take out the Brotherhood. Danse is never going to talk to me again. Why are you making this even harder for me?”

I collapsed into a different chair. It broke under my weight and I barely managed to catch my fall. Snarling, I picked up the chair and flung it against a broken window. It shattered further. 

The air was heavy. Silence lingered like a bad smell. I could hear Hancock’s feet shuffling somewhere behind me but I didn’t turn around to look. I just stood there, staring outside at the rain through the broken window. I felt like trash.

“It took a lot of effort to get through to Danse,” he said, breaking the quiet. “If he wasn’t a synth, you may never have gotten the chance.”

“I know that,” I whispered.

Hancock approached me but stopped a few feet behind me. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe he knew I didn’t want him so close. He’d have been right.

“Getting through to Danse took months, and he was just one guy. There was no way you could have fixed the Brotherhood, even if you tried. And I know you did.”

“For all the good that did me,” I scoffed.

Hancock paused, then asked, “Are you really gonna take the fight to the Brotherhood?”

“Well, the Railroad intends to, and I’m not about to abandon them. They say you need to pick your battles. Usually they don’t mean battles between the Railroad and the Brotherhood, but it seems like a pretty easy choice to me.”

“Good. Good.”

The rain tapped on the old shingles. Seabirds screamed in the distance. Waves crashed at the shore.

“That a satisfactory answer?” I asked.

Hancock sighed long and hard. “Yeah. It is. Thanks for helping me understand where you were coming from.”

“No problem. Now get out of my face.”

Hancock didn’t reply, but he didn’t leave either. I thought if I stood there and minded my own business, he’d respect my distance and take off. He did not. I turned around and scowled. The fire that was in his eyes before was gone. Now there was something else. I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Why are you still standing here? Didn’t you hear me? I want to be left alone.”

“You got something to say to me.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot to say.”

“So say it. Don’t let it stew.”

At first, I wanted to tell him no. When a man wants to be left alone, you leave. But before I could stop myself, the words were pouring out of my mouth. 

“Hancock, I fuck around with you because I trust you. I trusted you when I told you I got turned on by degradation, and you used that against me. You actually made me feel terrible. I thought it was hot at first, but once I realized you were using my kink as your outlet for genuine anger…” I shook my head. 

“Was it the denial?”

“Of course it wasn’t the denial,” I replied indignantly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t question my morals. You used that. And you didn’t just humiliate me, you made me feel weak, and vulnerable, and shitty. I…I feel like a bad person…”

“You ain’t.”

I swallowed hard.

“Wouldn’t waste my time with you otherwise.”

I looked at the ground. I still felt like shit. At first, Hancock’s attitude was hot. I loved when he came on me on the dock, how he threw me around and used MacCready to tease me. That was all great. I just wished he had been role playing instead of actually angry. Even as I stood there with knots in my stomach, I was still horny for him. 

When I glanced up, he was taking a step closer. I wanted to push him away. But he stopped. “I just gotta say…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said. For what I did.”

God damn it. He was, wasn’t he? “Thanks, Hancock, but…what now? We don’t just let it all go, do we?” 

“And why not?”

“Because I’m still mad at you.”

“Hey, that’s cool. I fucked up.”

True, but that didn’t seem fair. He obviously forgave me for screwing up with the Brotherhood. Why couldn’t I just forgive him too? I didn’t want this to ruin our relationship; I wanted our friendship and our sex life to stay exactly where it was. 

Almost on cue, Hancock tilted his head to the side and asked, “I get it if you wanna take a break.”

“A break?”

“Yeah. You know…”

He meant the sex. “That isn’t what I want, John.”

“Me neither, but…” he sighed. “I don’t feel like I earned the kind of trust needed to explore your particular brand of kink. Might wanna put the brakes on.”

“And yet, here I am with an insatiable hard-on.”

He chuckled. “Well, shit, Sunshine. You still want me after all that?”

I buried my face in my palm. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes.”

“Well then, I think I might have an idea. Something that’ll help make things square.”

“Oh?” This I had to hear.


	18. Mayoral Doodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock practices what he preaches; make mistakes, accept the consequences. The gang finally gets underway and hits up that trapper hideout. Nate runs into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Nate sure is a real pain in the ass ;)

There are three things everyone should know about John Hancock: the first is that he is as ruthless as he is sincere, as likely to cap a bitch as he is to give you the shirt off his back. The second is that he is honest; when he’s right, you know he’s right, and when he’s wrong, he won’t hesitate to back down and make amends. The third is that he tops. He doesn’t switch. He tops.

So when MacCready got tired of waiting and came out to see what was taking us so dang long, he must have had a lot of questions. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor place for a public forum. 

“Say it again!” I commanded.

Hancock grunted, draped over my lap with his bare ass in the air. I drove the broken chair leg down again. A clap so loud it could have been thunder resounded off of the hollow walls. 

“Say it!”

“I’m sorry…” he groaned.

I drove the chair leg down again. Hancock shuddered - - physically shuddered. We’d been at it for thirty minutes and there were tears in his black eyes. His ass was bright red, even past his hardened skin. Blood pooled where the wood broke the surface and bruises were already starting to blossom through.

“Not sorry enough,” I sneered, and repeated the gesture.

He gasped, voice raspier than usual. Now he was winded, struggling to breathe. He moaned in between breaths. It didn’t sound like a pleasant moan, but is sure as shit wasn’t the safe word. 

This was Hancock’s chance to atone. According to him, I had already done that by letting him come on me and talk down to me. Since there was weight behind it – not just fun humiliation play – he felt horrible. What better way to make it even than by extending the same courtesy? His idea.

I told him right out the gate that I couldn’t hurt him and make him feel genuinely bad. I think he was disappointed. But I told him that I would give it a try for his benefit if this was something he needed to do. 

At first, neither of us were into it. I was too nervous. I didn’t mind topping, but often preferred bottom, and ordering my dom around felt foreign to me. Hancock kept having to tell me “louder” or “harder” whenever I’d scream or hit him, which just resulted in him domming anyway. We were about to give up when I got frustrated, snapped the leg off the broken chair, and bent him over. Bam. Into it.

“Holy sh – er, crap…” gasped MacCready, standing at the doorway with his freshly pressed duster and our collective gear. 

“THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!” hollered Hancock through tears.

“Did you just yell at R.J.?” 

Hancock grunted. He knew he wasn’t going to get away with that. The chair leg collided with his ass again. A deep, guttural noise erupted from his throat, and he shuddered again. “Christ, stop, stop…” 

I paused and whispered, “Uh…are you actually asking me to…?”

He glared.

“Ah. Got it.” No safe word, no stopping. I obliged and drove the wood against his ass thrice. His whole body seized up. I could tell it was really taking its toll on him. 

I wasn’t used to this kind of thing, but it wasn’t a turn off. With Hancock bent over my knees, my still-aching cock was tense against my jeans, burrowing into the man’s muscled side. Every now and again I would push against him just to get a little friction, a little relief. It was only making me harder. 

A loud clap erupted off the walls as I drove the leg back down. This time, he didn’t make a sound. What he did instead was clutch at my legs and dip his head over the side of the couch. He was actually pale. 

“Whoa, Buffout,” I said, and tossed the chair leg aside. Hancock looked like he wanted to protest, but I stopped him before he could. “I’m calling it. You’re looking pretty rough.” I helped him up into a sitting position. He groaned in pain as he pulled his pants back over his swollen ass and fastened his buckle. He was sweating. I didn’t even know ghouls COULD sweat.

“Heh. Whew. Guess I’m out of shape.”

“You most certainly are not,” I disagreed. “I hit you a hundred and six times just now. You’re in great shape. Trust me.”

“Uh, hi.” We both looked up at MacCready. “Yeah. Remember me? Ugh. I take it you two made up?” We looked at each other with sly smiles. “Great. Well, if you’re finished, whaddya say we go get that loot before you two decide to be even weirder?”

-

Hancock and I were okay. Ultimately, he was right. Joining the Brotherhood was stupid. I was thankful that our dialogue helped us gain some perspective. It wasn’t like we were never not friends, but both of us really needed to pull our heads out of our asses and be there for each other. Now that we dished it out, we could do that. I felt a million times better about whatever lied in my future, because I knew at least I’d have Hancock’s support.

Speaking of asses, though.

About fifteen, twenty minutes into our travels, Hancock stopped making small-talk with MacCready and turned to silence. I took point, so I only stopped when I heard MacCready say, “Whoa, what’s the matter?”

I stopped amidst the blue fog and turned around, boots shuffling against the wet earth. MacCready turned around too and was gazing at Hancock who had fallen behind a ways. The ghoul stood as still as a statue. His arms were folded at the elbows, clutching his stomach.

“Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” I hollered back.

“Shit.”

MacCready opted for clarification. “But what’s wrong -”

“SHIT,” demanded Hancock, and flew off into the bushes faster than my eyes could keep track.

I met up with MacCready. The two of us watched anxiously, listening to the sounds of the bushes rustling. A belt buckle being undone. Pants dropping. A grunt. And then the loudest, most horrific noise I have ever, to this day, heard an ass make. It was like an earthquake shaking loose a landslide before dropping off into a body of water. Rumble, rumble, splash.

“Uh, hey Hancock, you okay?” hollered MacCready.

“Eugh…” wheezed the ghoul. Another monstrous fart detonated behind the bushes, followed by, “This is why people stop believing in religion.”

-

“If we die,” I said, watching at least a dozen trappers clamber like ants across the grounded ship, “then I want you to know that I’m sorry I made your ass explode.”

“Shoulda rewrote my will, leave a nice pile of caps to MacCready if he pummels your ass the same way you pummeled mine.”

“Hey, I’ll do it for free,” laughed MacCready. I raised a brow. “Kidding,” he added.

“Alright,” I said, eyeing our enemies. “MacCready: we’ve got one guy in the captain’s cabin, one in the crow’s nest, and one to the right up on that shipping container. If you can snipe those three, that’ll keep us safe from anyone above ground-level. Your fire should draw out our friends on the main deck. Hancock: that’s where you come in.”

“Shank or shotgun?”

“Keep it quiet. You see the plank that stretches from the ship to the land?”

“Yeah. You lookin’ at that container over there?”

I nodded. The shipping container was on the land right next to the plank. If Hancock hid behind it, he’d be able to pull in any guys who exited the plank, and that plank was the only way to get from the ship to the land. 

“Fine. But once they see one of their guys go missing, they’re gonna hunker down.”

“Leave that to me.”

“What?” laughed MacCready, wrinkling his nose. “You can’t be serious. If I take out three and Hancock gets one, maybe two with his knife, that leaves you to take on everyone else. That’s suicide.”

“I’ll make for the captain’s cabin and duck behind the hull. Anyone onboard would have to climb the stairs and hop over the threshold to get to me. By the time they get there, I’ll have six charges on my musket ready. Typically, people’s faces don’t hold up well against the beam.” I winked.

MacCready gave a sigh that was relenting at best. “Alright. But…boss?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

-

“Ahhhhhhh shit!” 

“How d’ya like bein’ on fire, mainlander?!” shouted the trapper in his Yorkshire accent.

“You’re on fire too, jackass!” 

The trapper pulled out another Molotov cocktail and cackled.

“How is this not fazing you?! You are LITERALLY. ON. FIRE. And why are there no lady trappers?! At least answer me before you burn this entire ship to the ground!”

The trapper wrenched his arm back. He was going to throw it. This was the fourth Molotov he’d thrown. 

After MacCready took out the guy in the captain’s cabin, the others started scrambling. MacCready was able to snipe the other two guys with seemingly no effort. Perfect. By the time that was done, Hancock was waiting at the end of the plank. Sure enough, one of the trappers climbed across. Hancock was quick to drive his knife between his ribs. The mayor got lucky. Two more of those idiots climbed across. He shanked another, but the third guy put up a good fight…so good that Hancock’s knife plummeted between the land and the ship, falling onto the beach below the cliff. They scrapped for a while. Aside from the trapper jerking Hancock around by the nostrils, he was fine and the trapper met the same fate as the knife.

That’s when I ran across the plank. I was never particularly fast, but I managed to dodge any bullets sent flying my way. I reached the captain’s cabin, scooted the corpse aside, and took cover. That’s when Jerkface McDouchenozzle tossed the first molly. 

The first one hit the roof of the cabin and I snickered internally. What shitty aim. The second one came right through the window and hit me smack in the leg in a karmic explosion. Fortunately, the deck was pretty wet from the rain that had found its way through the windows. I rolled over and extinguished the flames before they burned through my clothes. But then the guy showed up at the door and tossed one right between us. Now, I was rolling around again, shouting at the trapper who was mentally addled by the fog, and also, quite on fire.

I have no idea how I did this next thing. I kicked. You know how breakdancers kick, starting on the floor and ending in some sort of ridiculous whirlwind? Yeah. I did that. Knocked the molly right out of the guy’s hand and out the window. I heard it explode outside. And somewhere during that crazy awesome kick, I managed to single-handedly skewer myself on the giant fucking hook that he kept strapped to his side. 

I yelped and brought us both to the ground. The guy pulled back, which, if you’ve been fishing, you know pulled me with him, hook stuck in my leg. Well, okay, not my leg per se. More like my upper, outer, back leg. But before I could do anything about it, the guy’s head exploded. Great. Thanks, MacCready. I was hooked to a headless corpse, covered in his brains. Well, at least I hadn’t been screwing the guy this time.

I reached down and tried pushing him off. This only sank the hook deeper. I yelped again and started breathing heavily. Shit, that hurt. I would have to get the hook out if I wanted to move anywhere.

I must have been trying forever, hoping MacCready and Hancock weren’t running into any trouble. They were fine. Both of the resourceful bastards showed up after too long, each with perturbed looks on their faces. 

“Whoa, boss,” said MacCready, wiping the sweat from his brow. “There’s a hook in your ass- er, butt.”

“Whoa,” agreed Hancock. “I take back any complaints I had about my ass earlier.”

“That bad?” I wheezed.

Hancock and MacCready exchanged quiet glances. That did not bode well. 

“You any good at first aid?” asked Hancock.

“Uh, some minor field medic stuff I picked up with the gunners,” answered the merc. “You?”

“Nothing that don’t involve Med-X.”

They exchanged glances again. I did not like this. Not one bit. I liked it even less when MacCready raised up his fist to rock-paper-scissor with Hancock, and liked it even LESS when Hancock obliged.

“Oh for – UGH. Just pull it out! One of you!”

“Alright,” said Hancock. “MacCready, why don’t you go make sure we don’t have any stragglers. Scout for loot while you’re at it. I’ll shout if I need ya.”

“Alright,” he agreed with a wary expression. He gave me a sympathetic glance before cocking his gun and exiting the cabin. His footsteps padded down the stairs and across the main deck until they were drowned out by the rain.

Hancock knelt down next to me and tugged gently at the hook. I moaned and twisted my head. “God! Fuck!”

“Uh, yeah, this isn’t gonna feel great.”

“No kidding! Just get it out!”

“Heh. First time you’ve ever asked me to take something out of your ass.”

“Hancock…” I warned.

“Alright. You got a stimpak? You might need a couple.”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re in my coat, just get it out and take however many you need, Jesus!”

“Alright, calm down. Take a deep breath.”

I tried. I closed my eyes and breathed. My breathing was ragged, though. The pain was frigging unbearable. 

“You ready?”

“Just go!”

“One…two…th-”


	19. Hook, Line and Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate deals with the aftermath of the harpoon and addresses his pent-up frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having things up your butt can be fun! Except hooks. Hooks are not fun. Unless you're into that. Then good on ya. (Please clean your hooks before and after. And as a rule of thumb, don't use hooks.)

I opened my eyes. Christ. My head was killing me, vision spinning like I was on a freaking teacup ride. I guess I passed out. I was inside of the soft, warm bed back at the Last Plank, Hancock pressing a cloth to my forehead. Wow. That was actually pretty sweet. 

Unfortunately, my deluded brain made up half of that. Sure, Hancock was there holding a cloth, but we weren’t at the Last Plank, I wasn’t warm, and there was a fountain of blood gushing out of me. I was still lying on the deck. Couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. 

I groaned. “My ass…”

“Stop moving and hold still,” commanded the ghoul. 

He fumbled around in my coat for the stimpaks. I tried to help him, but as soon as I moved my arms, blood erupted out of my butt like a faucet. I panicked and ended up pulling myself off of the ground instead, head shifting quickly from my ass to the floor, the floor to my ass, watching the puddle of blood (great band name) grow. “Oh…oh god!” 

“Sunshine, ya need to stop, you’re gonna…” 

My vision swam.

“Hey, stop, you’re losing –”

Blood. Blood everywhere.

“Just take a deep breath and – ”

I started to hyperventilate, slapping my ass in a haphazard attempt to, I don’t even know, plug the hole? Like I was some kind of boat?

“ – swear to God you smoothskin idiot, if you don’t sit down you’re gonna –” 

Blood. Screaming. Ripped pants. Screaming about bloody, ripped pants. Oh my god. This was it. I was dying, dying because I took a hook to the ass. I was going to die like a fucking fish in front of all of my friends.

“Darwin award!” I wailed.

“What?”

“I’m gonna win a Darwin award!” And that was the last thing I said before I blacked out a second time.

I moaned and shifted my weight.

“Quiddit.”

The hell kind of position was I in, anyway? When my eyes fluttered open, I realized I was staring down at a mattress. “Where am I?”

“Two feet to the right, genius,” said Hancock. 

I heard his voice, but where was he? My answer came to me in the form of a pat on the butt. I groaned and squirmed, and realized two things: first, there was a pillow under my hips and belly that was put there to keep my ass elevated. Second, my pants were around my ankles, general’s coat bunched up at the waist. My, my. So breezy.

“There,” he said from behind, “you’re all nice and stimmed up. Now you hold still and let the flesh mend, got it?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, and dropped my forehead onto the bedding. Looks like Hancock had hauled me onto the captain’s bed when I was out. But I guess I was glad I blacked out where I did; in hindsight, that whole mess could have been a lot worse.

Hancock pulled himself off the bed and hung out with me while I waited, leaning against the captain’s desk and lighting up a cigarette. He didn’t smoke often, but it wasn’t unlike him. My guess was that he found a spare pack of cigarettes somewhere and was doing it just to keep his hands busy. He must have sensed my impatience, too, because he glanced up, tilted his head to the side, pulled a magazine off the desk and tossed it my way. It landed in front of me. Islander’s Almanac. No Grognak, but literature is literature.

The stims were taking their time. I could feel the flesh mending on my ass. Zero out of ten, do not recommend. I tried to busy myself by flipping through the magazine, but I was bored, tired and a little uncomfortable in that position. “You run into any trouble?” I asked Hancock, desperate for a distraction.

“Besides you? Nah. MacCready didn’t leave a whole lot to clean up after.”

I adjusted my hips against the pillow. “Yeah. The kid’s got talent.”

“Damn straight.” Hancock took a drag. “Speak of the devil. Whatcha find?”

I couldn’t see him from my position on the bed, but I heard MacCready approach. “Ho man,” beamed the merc, “the boss was right. Totally worth wiping these assho- er, jerks out.” Clunk, clunk, clunk. His boots thudded up the stairs. “Swap you?”

I closed the magazine and glanced over in time to see MacCready hand a crate full of guns, armor and other goodies over to Hancock in exchange for the cigarette. Now, it was MacCready’s turn to take a break while Hancock rifled through and divvied the loot on top of the captain’s desk.

“Well, well, looks like Hancock got the bleeding to stop,” smiled MacCready. 

I gave a weary smile back and readjusted my hips. Hmm. Maybe having my crotch against that pillow wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought…

MacCready peeked over my bare ass. “Yeah, that’s looking a lot better. Had me worried there for a second.”

“Eh, I’ve been through worse.”

“You sure?” mused Hancock. “Never seen ya faint before.” I could practically see him grinning, even with his back turned toward me.

MacCready snickered. “Wow, you fainted, boss?”

“I blacked out for one, maybe two seconds, tops.”

“Sure. The first time,” insisted the ghoul.

MacCready let out a long, hard laugh. “You fainted twice?! Oh man, that’s rich.”

I was going to say something – hell, I was going to say a lot of things – but I got distracted. MacCready was so charming when he laughed. Small crow’s feet could be seen at the corners of his eyes, and whenever he let out a laugh like that, I could see this one, missing tooth toward the back of his mouth that gave him this genuine, unique kind of smile that melted me into butter.

I could still picture his face like that even when he turned around to lend a hand to Hancock. Upturned, stormy eyes. Tiny, little laugh lines against his young face. That little freckle against his left cheekbone. Strong, roman nose. Sharp jaw. Sandy beard. Resilience mixed with cautioned vulnerability. That was MacCready: the perfect partner.

Great. Another boner.

With their backs turned, I eased my hips into the pillow, just to get the tiniest bit of relief. I hadn’t come since we were back at the prep school. How many days ago was that? Two? Ugh. I had been horny ever since Maxson threw me down onto that beach. Then Hancock and I got MacCready off, then Hancock got off ON me, then he got MacCready off again, then I started to get Hancock off…

Wow. Wildly unfair. I was done.

“Three hundred and seventy by my count,” said the merc. “How should we split it?”

“Hundred and twenty each way. Change to you for hauling the loot.”

MacCready nodded. “Deal. Did you see the shotgun shells?”

“I’m horny.”

“Yeah, I’ll take those,” said Hancock, tucking the ammo into his coat. “Any fifty cal?”

“Nah. Got some fusion cells for the boss, but not many. Lotta frigging harpoons for all the good that’ll –”

“I’m horny.”

MacCready and Hancock looked over their shoulders at the same time. Both of them blinked.

“Help.”

I must have looked a sight, begging my traveling companions to touch me, naked ass sticking up in the air, boner penetrating the late captain’s poor, poor pillow. That pillow didn’t deserve it. That pillow did nothing wrong.

“Uh…” Hancock cleared his throat. “Gotta be honest, Nate. Not sure where we left off, exactly. Think we made things square, but I’m not real sure if you wanted me to continue to –”

“Deny me? Degrade me?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Do it.”

MacCready looked like he was going to take my head in one hand, Hancock’s in the other, and smash them together like a couple of coconuts. “Are you two serious? After all the drama that caused?”

“Eh, I was full of myself,” confessed Hancock. “Now that I get where he’s coming from, I can get back to focusing on who or what he’s coming on.”

“If you say so,” said MacCready, flicking his cigarette out of a window. “Just don’t get me involved.”


	20. The Ol' Six Crank Capacitator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock shows MacCready his homemade vibrator! #DIWhy. And Nate finally finds what he's been searching for for the last two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should exercise better gun-safety, Hancock, and you know it!

It took fifteen seconds for MacCready to change his mind. I don’t need to go into detail, but it involved Hancock, a little, R-rated gesture, and the words “fuck,” “cock,” and “Nate.” And now that Hancock and I had hashed things out, the real fun could begin. 

Hancock sat on the desk and pulled MacCready close. Still fully clothed, MacCready moved his crotch against Hancock’s leg while the ghoul held his hips and reeled him in over and over. He also pressed small kisses against MacCready’s neck, drawing soft, little gasps from the mercenary, before mixing in a little teeth and leaving a couple love bites here and there.

Meanwhile, Hancock forced me to keep grinding against the pillow. “Don’t get carried away,” he warned. I watched the two men touch each other and dry hump while I thought of all of the compromising positions I could get MacCready into – or that Hancock could get me into – until I got too excited. I began panting and slowed down until I had to stop entirely.

At that point, Hancock hopped down and looked at my ass. “How ya feeling?”

“G-good,” I breathed. 

“Cool. Think you can sit down?”

I nodded. My ass was fine. Thank God for modern medicine. Hancock pulled the pillow out from under me, leaving me wanting, straining against my briefs. Ugh. I wanted it back so I could hump it some more. He wouldn’t give me the luxury, though. Instead, he pulled my pants and briefs around my ankles, sat me on my rear, and spread my legs open. 

“Good. Hands behind your head.”

I did as he asked, still breathing heavily. Arms folded behind my head, I watched in awe as Hancock spread open MacCready’s legs and felt him up. It was like he was patting him down for weapons. His hands traced from his ankles to his knees to his thighs to his crotch. MacCready was loving it, licking his lips and shifting the weight of his hips.

“Alright, MacCready. I’m gonna show you a little trick that I use to get off when the boss isn’t looking. You ever use a vibrator?”

MacCready shook his head, and I asked, “Do you seriously keep a secret vibrator with you?” Wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Nah, nothing that fancy.” He picked my laser musket up off the ground and gave it a crank.

My mouth fell open. “Oh, you have got to be shitting me.”

Hancock gave a long, sultry laugh.

“Hey, is that why you keep firing it off in the middle of the night? You told me you were shooting at raiders!”

Hancock shrugged.

“And is that why it was sticky two weeks ago?”

MacCready interrupted to ask a more important question. “Uhhh, is this safe?”

“Course it is. So long as I don’t fire. You game?”

“Well…” MacCready glanced at me as though I could offer him some kind of insight. I mean, I couldn’t. I really, really couldn’t. Hancock was batshit crazy. 

“Don’t look at me.”

MacCready swallowed. “Alright, I’ll try it, I guess…but if I don’t like it then I’m using the safe word!”

“That’s what it’s there for,” grinned Hancock, and pressed the stock of the humming rifle against his crotch.

At first, MacCready didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at the gun poised against his pants. He was clearly unimpressed. That’s when Hancock gave my musket a second crank. This time, MacCready raised an eyebrow. “Oh.” He shifted his hips. “Oh…” 

“Heh. Not bad, right?”

“Actually…no. Not bad at all.” 

MacCready licked his lips again and thrust gently against the butt of the rifle. He did so slowly, deliberately. Soft sighs came from his lips, but nothing more. I knew that once Hancock cranked it thrice, things would change. And I was right. One more crank, and MacCready had to stifle a moan. Now, his hips locked against the gun.

“Oh my God…”

Hancock took the rifle away just long enough to nod toward MacCready’s crotch. “Go ahead and unzip, kid. Gonna make you real happy right now.”

“O-okay.” He did as he was told, undoing his pants and slipping them down around his knees so that he was just in his boxers. He was already hard. I was too just from watching him. Man, how I wished I could do something, anything to MacCready. For now, I was forced to watch Hancock lower the butt of the rifle back against my partner’s wanting cock. “Holy crap!” he exclaimed.

“Right?” breathed Hancock, voice like whiskey crackling over ice. 

MacCready stood there, legs spread wide while Hancock teased him with my gun. A genuine look of surprise was painted across his face. The gun thrummed against MacCready, Hancock hosting its stock up and down his length. Then, he gave it a fourth crank. The laser was glowing bright red, like the eyes of a wild animal burning through impenetrable darkness. The laser whirred louder.

“Oh, shi- ugh…” R.J. had to keep from cursing. “Ugh…that’s…that’s really intense…” He bucked his hips forward but immediately drew them back again. 

“Too much?”

“Maybe? No? Ah, I don’t know,” he whined, and pushed into the gun again so hard that I thought Hancock might misfire. But he didn’t. The ghoul just chuckled and worked him a little harder. 

MacCready ground down then doubled back, desperate one moment and overworked the next. My own dick was still hard. I longed to touch myself, but I knew Hancock wouldn’t like that. Instead, I was forced to watch with stars in my eyes as Hancock gave it a fifth crank. God bless that capacitator, I thought.

“OH!” wailed MacCready, who doubled over bent at the waist. He reached out and clutched Hancock’s coat collar. 

“Heh heh. Looks like you’re in heaven, kid.”

MacCready’s legs began shaking. He couldn’t thrust anymore. All he could do was stand there and keep himself upright by grabbing a hold of Hancock while the mayor worked him and worked him and worked him. And the best part? MacCready was still tucked into his boxers. It was just that good. The look on his face was priceless, and I was loving every second of it. 

“Mmm…fff-uhhh, ahhh, Hancock, oh my God, mmm…” he whimpered, trying his damnedest to keep himself from cursing or getting too loud. 

Hancock and I must have been thinking the exact same thing, because he said, “Come on, MacCready, ain’t no one out here but you, me, and the boss’s little boss. Don’t hold back.”

MacCready gave a few similar noises, fingers clutching at Hancock’s frock coat.

“Come on, kid. You can do better. Here. I’ll help.”

Hancock finally, FINALLY hit that sixth crank. And MacCready lost. His. Goddamn. Mind.

His eyes shot open. “OH GOD!” His legs were like jelly, trembling each time Hancock moved the vibrating stock against his crotch. He was still bent over in pleasure and agony with uncontrolled breathing, tugging at the red coat in front of him.

“That’s better,” tittered Hancock.

“Holy sh- nnnggghhhhhhh!!!” 

“Come on, MacCready. Let it all out.”

Hancock smiled and rubbed the end of the gun in small circles against the bulge in MacCready’s pants. 

“Oh my God, Hancock, I’m gonna…”

“You’re gonna what?” teased the ghoul.

And then, in one, long breath, he moaned, “Shitshishit I’mgonnacuminmypantsHancock!”

Hancock jerked the gun faster and faster until the single, most attractive sound I have ever heard him make erupted out of MacCready’s mouth like lava from a volcano. 

“OH, FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

Hancock didn’t even stop me when I let my arms fall. I couldn’t believe my ears. It was like the dam to his formerly-suppressed fucks broke, and now there was a big, giant fuck-flood.

Hancock pulled MacCready’s boxers down for me to see. They were ruined. He was so weak that Hancock had to hold him up with one arm while he extended the other, aimed the gun through a window, and fired into the distance. The violent bang of the six-crank capacitator beam was almost as loud as MacCready.

The gun fell to the floor with a clatter while Hancock helped MacCready up onto the desk. “Remember what we talked about back at the bar?”

MacCready was gasping for air. “N-n-no. Wh-which thing?” Hancock whispered something into MacCready’s ear and the merc said, “Oh, that? You wanna try that now? I dunno, I’m…I’m…well, I’m somethin’.” He chuckled.

“That’s sort of the point,” explained Hancock. “Besides, it gets the boss off, and you can use the safe word when it gets too intense.” The hell were they talking about?

MacCready looked over at me and my giant erection. I guess that was the deciding factor in whatever this mystery act was. “Alright,” he agreed, and leaned his head back against the wall. He spread open his legs. 

Hancock gently cupped his hand and placed it over MacCready’s still-hard dick. He was still throbbing and twitching long after the gun hit the ground. Guess the vibrations really did a number on him. The mayor’s hand then gave him one, quick stroke.

“Sh-ah! Crap!” cried MacCready.

“Oh my God, that’s what you’re doing?” I laughed. Hancock turned to face me and winked. 

He knew I got off on post-orgasm torture. We even did it ourselves a couple times, meaning he did it to me, but still, watching was hot too. That much became clear when Hancock gave MacCready another stroke, this one longer and quite a bit harder. 

The merc writhed in agony, slamming his back against the wall. “Ah!” he shouted. Hancock chuckled and gave him two pumps this time. “No, don’t!” pleaded MacCready. Not the safe word, but Hancock stopped anyway.

“You calling it?”

MacCready tilted his head to side and thought about it for a moment. “No…” he drawled, “not yet. I’ll say the safe word.” 

“Good, because Nate’s gonna love this next part.”

MacCready’s eyes shot open in horror as Hancock clamped down around him and began to stroke as though he were working him up all over again. He groaned long and hard, actually going so far as to bring his knees up and scrape his nails against the desk. “Ugghhhh…” he moaned. My own dick was already aching again, and I found myself remarkably close to coming when I realized that Hancock managed to pump a little excess cum from MacCready. 

Hancock pressed his thumb against MacCready’s tip, tracing that little, bead of cum all the way down his overworked, overspent cock. The merc buckled, face coming to rest against the small of Hancock’s neck.

“Oh God, please, no…” he whimpered.

In return, the ghoul pressed a kiss to MacCready’s ear and continued to torture him, this time pumping hard and fast against his dick. 

“WHOA! FU—AHHH! BUFFOUT!”

Hancock stopped and smiled, pulling MacCready into a tight embrace. I thought he was going to continue to offer a little aftercare, but instead, he helped MacCready button up his pants and sent him over to the bed with me. “Nate’s gonna take good care of you,” promised Hancock. He didn’t question this. MacCready settled in next to me, leaning a head on my shoulder. He closed his eyes, doing his best to catch his breath. 

“Just breathe,” I whispered, and wrapped an arm around him. I stroked his arm gently. And then I glared at Hancock. He smirked back at me.

That asshole was perfectly capable of aftercare. I should know! He only sent MacCready over to me because I was horny and desperate, and he knew holding him would make me wanna get off. Well, he was right! Two days! Two days of being worked up, and I still hadn’t come. It was hot. And frustrating. And infuriating. And it was making me hard. Swollen, throbbing, twitching-even-though-nothing-is-touching-me, about-to-explode levels of hard. 

Suddenly, MacCready went to reach out and touch my thigh. He set his palm down and offered an endearing stroke. Only that wasn’t my thigh.

“Hngh - !!”

I tried to stop it. I really did. I even went so far as to hoist my legs up and clench my ass, hoping that would stop it. I tried to think of things that turned me off: the smell of bad milk, my grandma, ferals, radroaches, Hancock’s explosive fart from earlier…but nothing worked. I twisted my hips to the side and closed my eyes. Hancock was going to KILL me.

I came hard. With my first contraction came a loud splash over the merc’s duster. When I opened my eyes, he was staring down at his hand and where it was put. 

“Whoa!” gasped MacCready, who clutched my cock and turned it quickly away from his clothing. 

Reaching the peak of my orgasm, I wrenched my mouth shut and subdued a groan, a second bout of cum streaming onto my own boots. It was still dripping from my twitching cock by the time I realized Hancock was staring at me.

“Oh, Nate…you bad boy,” sighed the ghoul. He took a brisk step forward, reached out, and grabbed my erection right over MacCready’s hand. He forced MacCready to stroke me. 

My lips parted as a desperate, little noise cracked inside my throat. 

“Bad, bad, bad boy…” he continued, and I came again, this time onto Hancock’s coat. That wasn’t my fault, he aimed me there! But I knew he was going to punish me for it anyway, later. 

I was a lost cause. At that point, I just leaned back onto the mattress and let Hancock and MacCready pump me in unison. I arched my back and moaned as they milked every last ounce of me dry. 

Fucking. FINALLY.


	21. Pain in the Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready find a bunch of potential dates for Hancock!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/3 of these bastards have taken ass damage. Watch out, MacCready. You could be next.

The rain stopped by the time we returned late in the afternoon, and by early evening, we were en route to the Commonwealth. Fortunately, it was smooth sailing, with clear skies and a warm breeze to boot. But as nice as it was, we. Were. EXHAUSTED.

I was so spent. I made a vow never to do that again (referring of course to my two-day denial bender.) This time, it was Hancock’s turn to lean over the side of the boat, but only because he couldn’t sit down. Instead, he opted to cool his face with the sea spray while his sore ass stuck up in the air the entire voyage back. MacCready lied on his back, groaning. Was it the way the ship was rocking? Was it the fact that he shoved his dick against the ass-end of an overcharged laser? Who could say?

The three of us stumbled off the boat and made old-people noises: groans, creaks, bones popping, the whole shebang. Kasumi met us down by the dock.

“Hey Nate! Wow, are your friends okay?”

I looked over my shoulder. Hancock wheezed and rubbed his ass while a woozy MacCready clutched the railing.

“Eh. They’ll live.”

Kasumi giggled. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

I looked back over my shoulder again. “Guys?”

Hancock squinted his eyes, staring off into the early night sky, probably wondering if God existed and if so, why they would do this to him. I glanced over at MacCready. “Oh God,” he moaned, and flung himself over the railing. “I hate boats…”

“Uh, yeah. We definitely need a place.”

Hancock, MacCready and I slept in separate corners of the boathouse: Hancock lying on his belly with his coat pulled over his head, MacCready curled up into a queasy, little ball, and me with my head against the wall. I think in that moment, we all would have been okay never touching each other again. Man, what a wild ride.

I was awake most of the night. Too much on my mind; things about MacCready, Hancock, the Brotherhood, the Railroad, my friends, everything. The Nakanos were kind enough to make us breakfast (and some much-needed coffee which I filled my canteen with) and after hugging Kasumi, the three of us were off.

At first, I pulled out a signaling grenade. “The hell you doing?” scowled Hancock. I had completely forgotten that I wasn’t a part of the Brotherhood anymore. No more convenient helicopter rides for this guy. I apologized and dumped my signaling grenades into the ocean. Hancock’s mood improved after that.

I sipped my coffee while my companions chatted behind me, strolling along the beach and listening to the radio.

“This is Travis Looonely Miles coming to you live from Diamond City Radio. Word is that the Brotherhood of Steel may need to file a missing person’s report. That’s right, someone is missing, and that someone is none other than Elder Maxson, leader of the- ”

I flicked the radio off and selected another quest from my infinite list of to-dos. A while back I mentioned setting up a MILA device for Tinker Tom. I didn’t want to do it because of my relationship with heights, but we were pretty close to the location, so I decided to go ahead and bite the bullet. 

MacCready seemed to be feeling better. So much better, in fact, that he took the device, climbed to the roof of an abandoned factory from the outside of the building, and stuck it right on the ledge. Impressive. And I didn’t even have to lift a finger. 

“Now what?” he asked, hopping down from some railing and dusting off his palms. Before I could answer, MacCready’s eyes shot wide open. “Holy crap, Hancock, maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

I spun around. Hancock was staring at his ass’s reflection in a broken piece of glass jutting out of a factory window. It was covered – absolutely covered – in thick, red welts, white blisters, and deep, purple bruises. “Oh, Jesus!” I shrieked.

“Why the hell did I encourage you to throw those grenades out?” he asked, gazing regretfully into the reflection of his own eyes. Betrayal.

“You don’t think you can make it back to Goodneighbor?”

“Sunshine, I don’t think I can make it back to the parking lot.” He winced. “Someone just cut my ass off and feed it to the fish.”

“Maybe we should hunker down for a while,” suggested MacCready. 

“Alright,” I agreed. “Hancock, think you can make it inside if I help you out?”

“Yeah…I’ll try…”

-

“You must be here to try Longneck Lukowski’s canned meat!” wailed the man inside.

MacCready rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, this guy again.” 

“Oh, right! You! Ha ha! Yes! My loyal customer, whose name is…?” Lukowski did that thing with his hands that people do when they can’t remember shit, namely, flailing them aimlessly in the air as though MacCready’s name would float into one of his palms so he could snatch it.

“Customer?” MacCready shot me a sideways glance and I chuckled, Hancock’s arm draped over my shoulder as I supported his weight. “We bought five cans of this crap and it only took one to put us both out of commission!”

“You ever try running from supermutants when you’re fifteen seconds away from a code brown?” I added.

“Whoa ho ho, I can assure you, that was _not_ my canned meat, good sirs.”

MacCready glowered. “Yes it fuck- rgh! Yes it frigging was!”

I joined him. “And if you don’t give us a bedroll, some purified water, five stims and enough bandages to cover the approximate surface area of a mayor’s ass, we’re going to tell the entire Commonwealth about this quote-unquote _meat_ of yours.”

“WHOA!” shouted Lukowski. “Don’t do that! Also! What the hell kind of specific request is that?!”

Before I even saw him grab it, Hancock flipped open his switchblade and held it toward the merchant. “You wanna live long enough to show us that bedroll, or do you want me to answer your question instead?”

-

“That was terrifying, by the way,” said MacCready. 

I agreed. “Seriously. When your voice gets all low and rumbly like that it…” Well, it made me horny. But I wasn’t gonna tell Hancock that, at least not when there was a needle sticking out of his ass inside of the malodourous cannery. There was a time and place and this was neither. I squeezed the syringe and the mayor sighed. The painkillers should kick in any second now. 

“Don’t got time to deal with con-artists,” said Hancock, lying on his stomach. “Especially not when my ass is on the line. Heh.” He tilted his head up, abyssal eyes shimmering in the yellow, industrial light. “Get it?”

MacCready groaned.

“Was that in response to Hancock’s joke, or the smell?” I asked.

“Eh, a little of column A, little of column B.”

“Wait,” I added, “what do you mean con-artists?” I pulled the Med-X needle out of his butt. 

Hancock winced. “Come on, you ain’t that stupid. Whatever he’s peddling, it ain’t meat. At least not the kind I’d eat.”

“Really?”

“It made you and MacCready sick, right?”

“You have no idea,” laughed MacCready, an unlit cigarette dangling from his thin lips. He flicked the lighter over and over but it wouldn’t spark. “I mean, there’s no _good_ time to run out of toilet paper, but damn.” Another flick. “Oh come on you stupid thing…”

“Well something tells me this little operation he’s running goes beyond spoiled meat. Call it a hunch.”

“What do you think is in his meat?” I asked.

“Dunno. Ooh. There it is.” Hancock smiled and closed his eyes, feeling the sweet rush of narcotics flow through is veins. “But whatever it is…” he continued, voice getting quieter and wispier, “your threat got through to him; looks like Lukowski’d rather hand over his stash of chems and stims than get a bad rep. Now, an honest trader, why would they care? They ain’t got nothin’ to hide. But Lukowski…”

“He’s got a point,” said MacCready, finally getting a decent flame to stick. He inhaled and closed his lighter. “But that still doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

-

“Ugh, can’t see a goddamn thing in here,” complained MacCready, ankle-deep in some sort of putrid sewer water. “Can’t believe Hancock convinced us to check this place out.”

“Seriously.” I turned on my pipboy’s flashlight.

“Great, now I can see how disgusting the water is!”

“You were _just_ complaining about _not_ being able to see you insufferable little shit!”

“And what I _can_ see is disgusting!”

“You’re disgusting!”

“No, you know what’s disgusting? The fact that you and I bought into Hancock’s altruistic bullsh-er, crap. Who cares what kind of meat Lukowski is selling? It’s not our fault other people are stupid enough to keep buying it.”

“Eh, I’m on the fence.”

“How so?” MacCready stepped over a lump in the water. Gross. Rotten ferals.

“Well, Hancock’s got a point. If this guy’s making the whole Commonwealth sick, it couldn’t hurt to investigate. Besides, I’m sure there are caps floating around here somewhere.” Suddenly, I heard a crunch. I looked down at my foot.

“I think there’s more than caps floating around down here…” said the merc, wincing at the sight of my foot caught in the decaying skull of the waterlogged feral. “Urk…”

“Come on,” I insisted, snagging him by the collar of his duster and jerking my foot out of the feral with the sound you make when you rip apart a bell pepper. Once we were a ways down the tunnel, I let go of his collar and slid my arm around his shoulder. “You’re okay.”

When I glanced down, there was a small smile on his face, hands occupied with his rifle. After another minute or so of walking down the tunnel, he leaned over and nuzzled my arm. I think my heart skipped a beat. Schoolboy crush much?

“Check it out,” he said. 

Up ahead was a room off the main tunnel complete with a dozen more feral corpses. Disgusting. There was also a terminal, and I was bound and determined to find out what secrets Lukowski was keeping, if only because we’d made it that far. I couldn’t have taken one step into that room before every single feral in the place started writhing around, peeling themselves up off the floor and shambling toward us at various speeds.

MacCready swallowed. “Ohhhh crap.”


	22. The Back-Door Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes finally get some well-earned rest, and use their time very, very wisely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's knocking at the back door, MacCready... ;)

Blades chopping. Cold metal. Skin burning. Dripping wet. Hancock slumped over the bench. MacCready looking worse than he did on the ship. What the hell happened?

First, the ferals hit, and they hit hard. I couldn’t believe either of us made it out of those tunnels alive. Speaking of ferals, guess what Lukowski was turning into canned meat? Well, the man wasn’t thrilled we found out about his secret, and tried to bribe his way out. Like I said, I was on the fence. Maybe if it was just me and MacCready there, we would have taken the bribe; maybe the merc would have convinced me it was worth the caps. After all, the meat wasn’t killing people, it was just making the Commonwealth a little more…pootastic?

But it wasn’t just me and MacCready. It was me, MacCready, and a very sore, tired Hancock. “Fuck your bribe, you skeezbag,” said the mayor. Lukowski went to draw his gun, but Hancock drove his knife between the guy’s ribs so fast my head span. I snagged a cool bobblehead off the guy’s shelf – yay loot! – and left with my companions in tow.

“Let’s find the grenades,” said Hancock. 

“Oh, come on, you sellout. You can’t be serious.”

He squinted his eyes at me, each of them burning like a barrel of hot radiation. Oh, he was serious alright. I sighed and headed back toward the Nakano’s. 

The grenades were long gone, swept in by the tide. All but one, that is. Did I have to fight a mirelurk hunter for it? Sure. Did I win? Sure, if a loose definition of the word counts. Now, I was covered in irradiated spit, flying back to Taffington Boathouse by way of vertibird.

The three of us flopped out of the vertibird like ragdolls, and I gave the worried pilot some halfassed promise that I’d look for Elder Maxson as soon as I recovered. I could swear they were onto me, but I knew that was my radsick fugue state talking. 

We stood there for a time, staring at my settlement with weary eyes. “It almost feels surreal, you know.”

“What, that there’s a bed thirty feet away?” asked Hancock.

“A bed. Plumbing. Electricity.”

“Yeah, keep talking dirty…”

“Clean water. Couches. Hot food.”

“Mmm…makin’ me hard over here.”

I chuckled and glanced over at the mayor. A pale face caught my attention instead. “Hey, R.J., are you-”

“Whoa!” Hancock grabbed MacCready before he hit the ground. He was out cold. “Ow! My ass!” 

“Okay, okay, take it easy, here, just let me…”

I reached for MacCready, but Hancock let go too early and we both dropped his limp body on the ground. Oops. 

“Here,” said Hancock, bending over with a grunt.

“Jesus, stop, just go inside, I’ve got him.”

“I’m not just gonna leave MacCready here.”

“You aren’t. You’re just going inside while I take him.”

“You telling me what to do?”

“I’m strongly suggesting you go tend to your ass.”

“The only pain in my ass is you.”

I scooped up MacCready and then… “Ow, shit!”

“What?”

Blam! MacCready hit the ground again.

“Oh god, my back. I think I threw out my back. Hancock, am I old?”

“Hey, why don’t you focus on the fact that your sub’s face is bleeding.”

“Oh, shit.”

Hancock paused. “Huh.”

“What?”

“If I’m your top and he’s your bottom, does that make you a sub sandwich?”

“I…”

“GEEZ GUYS, THANKS FOR HELPING ME OUT!” wailed MacCready, picking himself up off the ground, dusting off his coat, and wiping the blood off his face. “Am I bleeding? Why’s my nose bleeding?”

My eyes widened and I looked to Hancock. _Don’t you tell him I dropped him like that!_ screamed my mind. Hancock didn’t say anything, so I guess he was able to read my expression. 

“Come on, MacCready, let’s go get cleaned up while Sunshine here grabs you both some radaway and a couple beers. Actually, make that three beers. And some jet.”

-

Everything was a blur after that. There was indeed beer and radaway, and I think even me and MacCready shared a little jet to take the edge off. It’d been a hell of a ride, and we were all glad to be somewhere safe. I woke up on the couch sometime in the dark hours of the morning. Or maybe it was still night. Who knew? 

I glanced to my right. There was my kitchen with its stove, dining table and chairs. Boxes of Sugar Bombs were stacked on the counter. Straight ahead were the stairs leading up to my bedroom where I kept all of my comics and collectables. I would have to add my new bobblehead to the collection once I gathered the wherewithal to actually move. But for now, I was content on the couch that sat snug against the wall of the side room with the open windows, gazing out onto the deck.

I could hear water lapping at the stilts of the porch. Sure, Taffington smelled like sewer water when the wind picked up just right, but usually, it was peaceful. Tiny, glowing lanterns of radiation in sealed jars were littered around the house, some décor I picked up in Far Harbor from the Children of Atom of all people. I never had to change lantern oil or turn on the generator; the little, golden jars had everything they needed to illuminate the house and porch like fireflies. I could also hear the squeak of the windmill generator spinning next to my workshop, the one perched over the water. I wondered if the previous owners kept an expensive boat in there. Now, it was home to a shoddy couple of workbenches. But home was home. Anything to be as far away from Sanctuary Hills as possible.

I loved my husband. I loved Codsworth. I loved the Minutemen. But I couldn’t stay in that place one second longer. Too many bad memories. I tried to settle in Sanctuary, truly I did, but one too many nights did I wake up with terrors, dreams of air raid sirens and my husband’s face frozen in fear in the cryo casket. 

“Damn it,” I whispered, wiping a layer of sweat from my brow.

Something stirred against my lap. “Mn…you okay?” Two bright, blue eyes looked up at me. MacCready had fallen asleep in my lap, legs draped over the arm of the couch. Where was Hancock?

“Oh, yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”

“If you wanna talk, I’m here for you.”

_Oh, just thinking about the dead hubs,_ I thought. “Nah.” Opting to change the subject, I asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that my feet are on the ground.”

I grinned. “You sure you don’t wanna go on a cruise? We can even take a vertibird to the harbor.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

My smile faded. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Hey, I’ve been through worse. It was just a few ferals…and some irradiated mirelurk spit…and some motion sickness…”

I grazed his belly with my hand. Oh. Where was his shirt? “I’m sorry you had such a rough trip.”

MacCready tilted his head back at my touch. Air filled his lungs and with it, his chest heaved. My eyes caught that trail of sandy hair that furrowed around his chest and dipped down past his navel. His hips made a lovely, little V, descending into his waistline. He was looking mighty fine in those army pants of his.

“Well, I’m just glad to be back here with you,” he answered at last, eyes shimmering like the stars in the sky. He beamed at me. Man, he needed to shave. Sure, he was scruffy, but he usually kept his goatee at a certain length, trimmed neatly into shape. Now, his stubble wasn’t stubble anymore; it was part of his beard. Even his hair was getting unruly. I could tell because his hat was set aside on the floor.

Damn, he looked good. I couldn’t help myself. I eased my hand lower and lower. His pants were already undone for comfort’s sake, so it was easy to slip my hand inside of them and wriggle my way under his boxers. MacCready inhaled and shifted his weight, head stirring in my lap. When he did, the weight of his head brushed against my crotch. It felt so good. 

I took his flaccid dick in my hand and started to stoke. One stroke…two strokes…three strokes, this one a little longer… MacCready licked his lips. “Mgh…”

“Where’s Hancock?” I whispered. 

“’Sup.”

“AHH!”

“HOLY SH-CRAP!”

“Come on, I know I’m ugly, but that’s pretty extreme.”

“What are you doing?!” I exclaimed, hand still cupped around MacCready’s semi-erect dick. “Are you just standing there outside of the window?”

“Sitting.”

“Well it’s dark, and I can’t see, and you’re scary.”

“All true.” I heard a mechanical puff. Jet. The smell of chem fumes wafted through the window on the breeze. “Don’t let me stop you. Just admiring the view.”

MacCready and I shared glances. I waited for him to give me a firm yes or no, and I think he was waiting for me to do the same. Finally, I agreed by giving him a cautious stroke. He was flaccid again. Thanks a lot, Hancock. Ah well. Time to start over. 

One long, gentle stroke. No reaction. Two long, firmer strokes. Nothing. A third stroke, tightening my grip, cupping his balls as I reached his base. 

MacCready stirred again. “Oh…”

There we go. I gave his balls a firm squeeze, taking my time in playing with them. I let my fingers explore his sack, his taint, even a little bit of his entrance just to tease him. So far, he hadn’t done anal (unless he and his wife were into some stuff he didn’t talk about) but I know he at least liked to be played with. I thought back to the voyage to Far Harbor, MacCready’s cock crammed down my throat while Hancock ate his ass. My own cock gave a violent twitch. 

I moved back up to his dick. He was getting pretty hard now. I started jacking him off again, my opposite hand combing through his ashen hair. His own hands clutched at his thighs. “That feels really good, boss…”

Jesus, I loved when he called me that. I think Hancock did too, because I could hear the sound of fabric shifting around outside; Hancock getting himself off, no doubt. And that turned me on, too. 

I thought I would never want to have sex again after what happened in Far Harbor, but now, I couldn’t wait to pull myself out of my pants and stick my dick into something. For now, though, I was content watching MacCready squirm. I loved controlling him, watching his beautiful reactions and hearing an audible response from Hancock outside. Like how when I picked up the pace, MacCready would moan and Hancock’s movements would quicken. Man, that was hot.

I took my hand out of MacCready’s pants. “Suck.” I plunged two fingers between his lips and he obliged, licking and sucking until they were good and wet. Then and only then did I stick my hand back in his pants. “Spread.” He did.

“Are…are you going to…?”

“You remember the safeword?” 

MacCready nodded.

“Good boy. Now do what I say. I’m not paying you to disobey orders.”

“Damn, Sunshine,” chuckled Hancock from the darkness. “You are full of surprises.”

I grinned and watched MacCready’s legs wrench open. My hand slipped past his balls and taint and I aligned myself with his asshole. Slowly, I began to press in, presumably taking him for the first time in his life. 

I was a little bit worried when I didn’t get a reaction. MacCready just stared at me, blinking. In fact, he had a confused expression on his face. _This is what anal fingering is? Lame,_ read his expression. I sank my fingers in deeper and deeper, curling them up and fishing around for his prostate. I knew he was about to call it quits. And that was okay. Anal isn’t for everyone. I could blow him, or let him fuck me, or whatever he wanted. But suddenly, his eyes lit up.

“Oh my god!”

“Bad?”

“N-no! It’s not b-b-bad! It’s...it’s…”

“Yeah, slam your fingers right up against his tight, virgin -”

“Stop backseat fucking,” I told Hancock, then followed his advice anyway, straining my fingers so that they could probe MacCready’s sweet spot. The reaction I got was not what I expected.

“Oh god, I can’t!” he cried, writhing on the spot. When he did, something hot spilled over my wrist. Wow, did he really just…? 

I pulled my hand back out of his pants. A long, viscous strand of cum oozed down my arm. I furrowed my brows. “What is this?”

MacCready was completely caught off guard. “I…what do you mean?” he panted. “It was really good, and I-” 

“Did I say you could come yet?”

“…” He had no idea how to respond.

“I didn’t. And now, I’m going to punish you. Take off your pants, R.J.”

A soft, sultry laugh came from outside the window. “If shit’s about to get real, then count me in.”


	23. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate climbs his way to the top. Hancock says something that he regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is like a fuse box: filled entirely with switches.

“Oh no…oh god…please…it’s too much…”

Four hands set to work on overstimulating the mercenary’s poor, spent dick. Hancock and I tied him to the bedpost upstairs. Now, it was creaking under his light weight with every shift of his hips, of which there were many. He struggled to jerk away from our touch to no avail. 

Arms strung up over MacCready’s head and ankles tied to each post, Hancock’s left hand held down his hips while his right fondled his balls. Both of my hands twisted around his cock. Now it was half erect. I twisted and twisted, coaxing out a little leftover cum.

“Ohhh, stop, please…”

Hancock and I exchanged rougish glances. As though we’d read each other’s minds, Hancock gripped the merc’s balls at the same time I gave him a long, hard stroke. 

“Fffuuu-uhhhhhh!”

My god that was hot. I’m sure MacCready and Hancock were fully aware of the giant bulge in my jeans. I could barely contain myself. Suddenly, my mouth was filled with something. 

I closed my eyes and sighed. Hancock plunged his tongue inside of my mouth. He tasted like chems and beer. Fuck that was good. I let go of MacCready and jerked the ghoul on top of me, knocking off his hat and dragging his clothed hips over mine. Soon, we were dry humping with a complete disregard for the man underneath us. 

My ass was planted right next to the mercenary’s crotch, and Hancock was straddling my right leg. Who cares that I threw out my back? I needed more of this friction and I needed it yesterday. I gripped the mayor’s hips and he rocked against me, grazing my leg with his hungry cock that longed to leave his pants. But for now, I wanted him to want me.

“You feel so goddamn good, Sunshine…makin’ me nice and hard…”

He moved his hips again, leg grazing my dick through my pants. I moaned. “Jesus…”

Hancock was screwing me through my clothes so good that I was getting close. My breathing was getting sparse, palms sweaty, desperately clutching at his hips when MacCready said,

“Please…”

Somewhere between being overstimulated and watching Hancock and I get each other off, MacCready started to get hard again. 

“Like what you see, kid?” Hancock ground down on me again. I released a loud, sultry moan just to get MacCready off. 

“You have no idea…”

“I bet you wish you could fuck the boss right now.”

“Oh my god, please…”

Hancock tittered and got up off my lap. “Turn around, Sunshine.” I did. Hancock’s nimble hands popped open my button and tugged my pants down over my ass faster than I could keep up with. I knelt on my hands and knees careful to avoid MacCready’s legs while Hancock bent over and stuck his face right up against my asshole.

“Ah!” I eased my hips back as his tongue probed me. That felt so good. It was hard not to touch myself; I was so hard already, but I knew that if I started jerking off I would cum all over MacCready and ruin my orgasm. Instead, I let my rock hard dick hang there, throbbing every time Hancock made a violent movement with his tongue. 

I heard him spit and grunt. He was stroking himself back there, getting ready to take me in front of MacCready. That tease. I could see just how jealous my bound companion was. I knew how he felt. I spent half my time in Far Harbor watching Hancock and MacCready do the exact, same thing to torture me. 

“How does it feel, R.J.?” I sneered, Hancock’s dick lining itself up with my hole. The ghoul grunted and so did I as he pushed it inside of me. “Mmmm… How does it feel? Watching, knowing that no matter how hard you try, you can’t get any satisfaction…that you’re stuck there wanting, aching, completely helpless?”

MacCready swallowed hard.

I rocked my hips back and groaned. “Fuck me harder, mayor…” Hancock snatched my hair and viciously thrust himself inside of me. 

“Come on…” begged MacCready. I guess Hancock took some pity on him because he moved me around to face him, my cock right over MacCready’s, and continued to fuck me from behind. 

Hancock felt amazing inside of me like that, and every time I squeezed around him, my cock twitched. I lowered my hips so that it could brush against MacCready’s erection as well. He stirred under my weight and the respective weight of Hancock: Hancock fucking me in the ass, and me grinding against MacCready. 

The mercenary tugged at the ropes. “Oh god that’s good!”

MacCready’s desperate pleas, the feel of his hard-on against mine; Hancock’s cock burrowed inside of me, every grunt from his weathered lips…

“Shitshitshit!” I cried. I was gonna cum. God I was gonna cum so hard if he didn’t stop. “BUFFOUT!”

Hancock pulled out and I leapt off the bed so fast my head spun. I inhaled and thought of whatever I could to take my mind off coming: those bobbleheads over there, the way I never got around to fixing that hole in the roof, blah blah blah, stop it you stupid dick, keep it together!

Somehow, _somehow,_ I did it. “Think I need a hot second,” I said, and gave a small wave as I padded down the stairs. I spent a few minutes collecting myself, sitting in the dining room and wondering if I should get a snack or something before continuing. 

Upstairs, I could hear my companions going at it. Hancock was always great at coming on cue. He could hold out for hours, and cum at a moment’s notice. MacCready? He was a loaded gun. I could usually last for a fair amount of time, but sometimes I needed breaks, like this one. 

I closed my eyes and rested my palms against the table. 

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

What were they doing? The bed was really starting to make some noise. And was that the headboard against the wall?

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

I throbbed in my pants. Hoo boy. I took a deep breath and moved my hips. Fuck. Even grinding against my own pants felt good. Just that little bit of friction right at the tip was heaven.

“Ohhhh! I’m gonna cum!”

Silence.

“Oh come on, Hancock! Please!”

I laughed quietly to myself. Guess MacCready was being denied. Damn that was hot. I wondered what he looked like right now. The kid was probably seeing stars, at least that’s how I felt when Hancock denied me. And now I got to share Hancock _and_ MacCready? It felt great.

I stood up, scooted out my chair, and undid my pants again. Freeing myself from them, I placed my cock on the table and gently rocked my hips. The friction from the table tugged at my skin, dragging it along my shaft in just the right way.

More squeaking from the bed. More headboards clashing with the wall. I humped the table, balls touching the edge, and moaned. 

God, I was so sensitive. Every little tug brought me closer and closer to the edge. Between those erotic sounds coming from upstairs and the ache building in my balls, I knew I wasn’t going to last if I didn’t stop grinding on things. My pants, the table, Hancock; didn’t matter. I quickly tucked myself away and headed back upstairs. And what I saw almost made me ruin my pants.

MacCready’s cock was crammed down Hancock’s throat. And the only reason I couldn’t hear him moaning on my way up the stairs was because his mouth was full, too. 

“Rocket 69. God bless you, Connie Allen.”

I don’t know what inspired me to do what I did next. Maybe it was the way the ghoul’s bruised ass was sticking up in the air like that, or maybe I was just a sick fuck. That broken roof I mentioned? Well, in the corner on the farthest wall of the room were broken boards, long, thin pieces I never got around to dragging out to the workshop. I took a narrow piece about two feet in length, walked around to the back of Hancock while he was preoccupied with MacCready’s dick, said, “Sorry, mayor,” and drove it down against his ass.

Hancock choked around MacCready’s cock, actually gagging before spitting it out and screaming, “What the HELL do you think you’re -”

He knew damn well what I was doing, and if I was going to top, there was only one way Hancock was going to let it happen: I had to earn it. I drove that puppy down against his ass so hard the fucking board broke. 

“GOD DAMN IT!” growled Hancock. MacCready tried to spit out Hancock’s dick too. 

“Don’t you stop,” I commanded. MacCready shot me a concerned look before going back to work, closing his eyes and investing himself in blowing the mayor. Then, I narrowed my eyes at Hancock. “Fuck his mouth.” 

“Do you really think you can tell me what to-”

SLAP! My palm collided with his bare ass. He growled again, thrusting his hips back and grinding down against MacCready. If there had been enough room near the headboard for me to wiggle in, I would have fucked Hancock right in his tight, ghoul ass, but no such luck. Instead, I walked around to face him, reached out, and clasped either side of his throat, squeezing my palms harder and harder. 

Hancock gave me an expression I seldom saw: it was pleading. I had seen it twice in my life. The first was when he told me how screwed up of a person he used to be, sitting there and doing nothing while his brother tossed all the ghouls out of Diamond City. And the second was when I beat his ass raw back in Far Harbor. Guilt, and the desperate urge to cum: the many moods of John Hancock.

He groaned. Wheezed. Bucked. Shuddered. 

“Let it go, John…”

Again. The movement of his hips, urgent and needy. The desperate rumble in his throat. Those eyes, shining black against the night sky.

“Now.”

MacCready made a noise. Not really a good noise. More like the noise a person makes when their mouth is filled with irradiated jizz.

Hancock parted his lips as I choked him and he came, then said, “I love you Nate…I love you…”

My stomach dropped. I released his throat. “What?”

MacCready gasped, choked, and spit as much cum out as he possibly could while being bound. It dribbled awkwardly down his chin. “Yeah, what?”

The next ten, fifteen seconds was a whirlwind. Hancock, clearly regretting what came out of his mouth, snatched his clothes and hat quicker than I’d ever seen him move and barreled down the stairs.

“Hey!” I called out, following him as he left the front door. “Where are you going?!”

“To think.”

“Hancock!”

No response. Just a red coat strutting away in the distance.

“John! It’s gotta be four in the morning! At least tell me where you’re going!”

“Goodneighbor!” he hissed. “Now lay off! And don’t follow me!”


	24. Finish What You Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready give Hancock his space and spend some alone time together at the boathouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _One faps, two faps, three faps, bwah ha ha!_
> 
> -
> 
> Hello! It's me! The author! I wanted to apologize for some confusion. I didn't realize that there was a set end-chapter. I went ahead and fixed this. Now it should say 24/? because there is no end to this story; I write it whenever I feel like Nate, MacCready and Hancock need to get down to business. So I'm sorry about that. There is no cliffhanger. And if anybody has a kink or request they'd like our boys to explore, feel free to comment or PM me and I'll strongly consider writing it in. My only rules are these: no kids, no animals, no poop. There are probably other things I'm not into, but those are the hard nos. Also, please understand that this Nate is gay, and although I'm fully aware that this is some stupid, smutty fanfic on the internet, I'd like to hone some integrity and keep him gay. If you'd like to see a similar rendition of Nate paired with a woman, nonbinary, robot, or, I dunno, anyone in between, you can PM me and I'm happy to write straight/bi/other fiction as well. But not this Nate. This Nate is cis and gay and prefers dick. And finally, thank you all for reading my work. It means a lot to me that people are enjoying it.  
-Michael

“Should we follow him?”

“No!” shouted MacCready like I was stupid. “He explicitly told you _not_ to follow him.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Look, he obviously shared some feelings he wasn’t ready to put on the table. Just let the guy get his thoughts together. If you corner him, nothing good is gonna come out of it. And speaking of coming, are you gonna just leave me tied here, or?”

MacCready’s cock jumped of its own volition. 

I was feeling overwhelmed. On one hand I was still hard and needy; on the other hand, I felt guilty about letting Hancock wander off into the dark like that. I knew he’d be fine – after all, this was Hancock we were talking about, he could hold his own – but I also worried. I didn’t have a whole lot left in the world anymore, and if something happened to the mayor on my watch…

“I dunno…”

“Hey, I’m kinda worried about Hancock, too,” explained MacCready like he’d read my mind, “but he’s gonna be fine. You’ll go to Goodneighbor tomorrow and he’ll say sorry and you’ll kiss and make up.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. So horny. But that guilt in my stomach. Ugh.

“Nate.” MacCready never used my name. “Please.”

“Please?”

“Please make me…you know…” My partner wiggled his hips as best he could while being tied and bound. I wondered if his wrists or ankles were sore. Whatever pain he may have been in must have been overshadowed by the impending need to cum.

I sighed and looked down at the sight before me. Perfection. MacCready’s naked body, that gorgeous, uncircumcised dick, hard and red and dribbling; the sheen of sweat across his brow and chest and the flush of pink across his scruffy cheeks. Damn. I unzipped and took out my dick.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

I started jerking myself off. Man he was pretty. And he was getting real worked up watching me. And _that_ was even prettier.

I groaned and stroked myself back to full erection. It wasn’t hard to do. MacCready was right: Hancock would be fine, he always was, and I was sure the ghoul would have wanted me to finish us both off anyway. I pumped myself in my fist and released a heavy breath.

“Oh come on! I’m dying over here!”

“Fuck this feels good…”

“Mgh…boss…” His hips were longing to break free, rocking from side to side while his limbs tugged at the rope. But I didn’t hear the safe word. Instead, I left him and his cock lying there in unfulfilled agony.

I rocked my groin into my hand and emitted a long, deep groan just to piss him off. “Oh…so close…”

And I was, too. I’d been getting worked up ever since I woke up to MacCready’s head in my lap. Even the gentle weight of it against my crotch made me hard, not to mention what followed: touching his dick, fingering him, Hancock’s hips thrusting into me, the ghoul’s mouth clasped around my hole, his hard length filling me and coaxing a near-orgasm from me…even that stupid table felt good. And now my hand felt like heaven.

I thumbed away some pre and licked it up, drawing a couple shallow breaths from the merc. There was a viscous strand of lust dripping onto his own belly. He was close.

“Come on, I’m begging you…”

I grinned and sat on the edge of the bed with a creak. “I’m going to count to one, and you’re not going to cum.” I reached out and clutched his throbbing cock. “Understood?”

“O-okay?”

I then gave MacCready a long, tedious pump, starting at his base tucked right against his balls and ending at his head before releasing him back onto his own stomach. “One.”

“Oh!”

“Good boy. Now I’m going to count to two. Then three. And you’re going to make it to ten.”

He was breathing raggedly through his nose, nodding and licking his lips. He wanted it. Needed it. And I was more than happy to give in. I took his dick and repeated the process, stroking from his balls all the way up to his head, releasing his cock after two long, hard pumps. “One…two.” _Thud._ Back onto his middle.

“Fff-”

Then, I started over, counting higher. “One…” I squeezed his balls and stroked his shaft.

“Oh god…”

“Two…” Another stroke. Harder. Longer. More deliberate.

“Ohhh…”

And another, as arduous as the last, ending with my spreading his slick back down his shaft and letting it fall again. “Three.” 

“Hng…!!!” He wrenched his head to the side and whined. His length was jerking and twitching against his belly. What was he thinking of so that he wouldn’t cum on himself? I tittered and started the process over, this time, counting all the way to four. Every stroke elicited another mewl from him and by the time I was at four, he was panting. “I can’t, boss, I can’t…”

I let his dick fall. “You’d better. I’m paying you to do what I say, aren’t I?”

“You’re paying me to shoot! And you aren’t letting me shoot damn it!”

I laughed aloud and broke my role. Okay, that was hilarious. Bending over, I planted a firm kiss on his lips. He closed his eyes and sighed, returning the gesture. Before I could stroke him anymore, the urge to mount him compelled me. I settled just over his lap, not quite sitting, just hanging my hips in the air and kissing passionately. 

Our tongues twisted, clashed, fought, and finally, I moved my hips. My cock touched his and MacCready moaned into the kiss.

I broke it only to kneel upright, knees on either side of my partner, gyrating my hips to tease him. At best, our dicks barely touched. I let my hips dance above him, watching him and his starry eyes as he moaned underneath me. 

“One…” I started again, still straddling him. “Two…”

“Oh my god, please…”

Another pump. Rougher. Slower. “Three…”

“Please let me cum…”

“Four...” Another stroke. I cupped his balls and squeezed. Then another. “Five…” _Thud._

“No! Come on! Just make me cum already!”

I ignored him and spit in my hand. He watched in awe. I hoped I wouldn’t hurt him, but I guess we’d find out. After all, I was the biggest out of the three of us – meaning me, Hancock and MacCready – and MacCready was a skinny guy. I wondered how tight he’d feel. I held my breath and started to enter him with slow, measured pumps. Maybe the adjustment period would help him keep it together while I…

“One…” I pumped him, thrusting myself further inside of him. “Two…” Another one. Deeper. “Three…” Again. Even deeper. “Four…”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“Five…” He throbbed in my hand. I was half way inside of him. He was so, so tight around me. I think I throbbed too. I gave him the final pump in the set, “Six…” and let his dick fall.

“Oh my god you’re so fu-uhh, frigging huge!”

“Does it hurt?”

“I dunno, it’s a lot of pressure…but it felt really good earlier when you, uh, you know…”

“You want me to work that sweet spot of yours, baby?”

MacCready nodded. My pleasure. I eased my way in, taking my time, counting from one to seven while I jerked him off and finally, _finally_ felt my balls collide with his ass. There we go. All the way in. By the time I let his cock fall on number seven, I was starting to feel a sense of ache and longing build in my balls. I would need to be careful if I was going to last.

I squeezed his cock and thrust my hips. “One…” 

“OH!”

“You okay?” Another stroke. “Two…”

“Y-yeah, y-y-you’re hitting m-m-my…”

I jerked my hips and let my cock tease his prostate while I pumped him. “Thr-”

“Please! I gotta cum!”

Oh god. So did I. But what kind of terrible example would I set if I unloaded now? If Hancock could cum on cue, then why couldn’t I? _I_ was top tonight! Me! Nate! Who was totally, totally in charge and not about to ruin his own orgasm!

“F-four…oh…”

“Boss!”

I rocked my hips. Pumped his cock. “Five…” Another pump. Another rock. “S-six…ah fuck…” Don’t cum, don’t cum…

MacCready tossed his head back and let out a loud, heavy groan. “Mmm!”

“Don’t you cum!”

“I c-can’t!”

“Don’t…you…” He clenched around me. “Oh…”

“I gotta…I-I’m gonna…oh fuck boss!”

“S-s-sev…sev…FUCK.”

That was it. I was gone. Grunting. Fucking him. Coming inside of him. Streaming against his prostate and groaning until MacCready joined me, cum erupting out of his cock like never before. I filled him up; he oozed down my fist, each of us loud and moaning until we were spent.

-

When I woke up, a man was staring down at me with a rocky expression. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Huh. Guess I fell asleep covered in both our messes. Delightful. I shifted my weight as the man came into focus. MacCready? No, he was still under me, and from the sounds of his tugging at the bedposts, I guess he’d fallen asleep too, forgetting about the restraints. Hancock? No, this person had hazel eyes. Who…

“I’m going to ignore whatever the hell kind of spectacle this is and get right to the point, soldier: you and I need to sit down and have a serious talk.”

“Danse?!”

The last time I’d seen Danse, he was off in his man-cave. His _literal_ man cave. I couldn’t believe I had convinced Maxson to let him go after finding out he was a synth. Sometimes, Danse and I still talked or had a beer together, but with his being exiled (and officially pronounced dead) and my cold feelings toward the Brotherhood, we were drifting apart.

So what was he doing here? Something to do with Maxson’s ‘disappearance,’ no doubt. I would have to explain everything, I supposed. But first…

“Okay, uh, I’ll be right down, can you just-”

“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE YOU METAL CLAD JACKASS!” wailed MacCready. 

Yeah, I guess that’s what I meant.


	25. Danse Danse Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Haylen pay Nate a visit, and boy do they have some interesting news about Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in this world makes any synths anymore.

The metal clad jackass waited for me downstairs while I untied MacCready and got dressed. I’d had a lot of humiliating experiences in my life, but this one was definitely up there in the top five. We cleaned the messes off of ourselves in the upstairs bathroom, threw on fresh clothes, and parted ways, me staying inside and MacCready heading out to the workshop to put away loot and repack our bags more efficiently; whatever kept him busy while I talked with Danse, since they didn’t get along.

“Oh, Haylen.”

“Hey Paladin,” she replied, sitting next to Danse at my kitchen table. It was strange to see them both out of their uniforms. Danse wore a flannel shirt and jeans – real “cowboy” – and Haylen had her ginger hair down over a black sweater. Weird, but okay.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, taking a seat opposite them. I could see MacCready through the dining room window hauling our heavy bags across the dock. He glanced over with a cautious furrowing of the brow before turning into the shop.

Danse inhaled through his nose. “Maxson is missing.”

Yeah. Figured this meeting was about that. But hearing it out loud made me feel sick. Staring into my friend’s hazel eyes, the extent to which I’d fucked up became a reality.

After everything Maxson did to Danse, wanting to kill him for being who he was, Danse was still loyal until the very end. I didn’t understand it. I was never quick to pull the trigger, but if somebody I saw as a leader, maybe Preston or Nick or Desdemona pulled a gun on me, I’d sure as hell question their leadership and certainly fire back if it meant defending myself. Not Danse, though. Hancock was always disappointed in Danse for “lying down and taking it,” and honestly, I agreed. Still, he was my friend. How could I have killed-

“Maxson? Oh, that, uh…wow…that’s…” I couldn’t lie. I mean, I _didn’t_ lie. Well, not to my friends, anyway. What was I going to say? How could I tell him? And Haylen, for that matter? My head was spinning. Oh god. What was I going to do?

“I snuck onto his terminal,” interrupted Haylen. “I know it was wrong, but I had to know where he went; the Brotherhood has been in chaos for the last few days. But what I found instead was…” 

She swallowed hard, and Danse placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright,” he reassured her. “Tell him.”

There were tears in her eyes. “The Institute has completely infiltrated the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with caution. 

Shit. They were onto me. They _knew._ And not only did they know what I did, but they thought I was working for the Institute! Not just as a double agent, but for real! This was bad. So so so bad. At least that’s what I thought at first, but I was wrong.

“I read Maxson’s logs. Five more synths have infiltrated the Brotherhood,” explained Haylen. Oh, _that’s_ what she meant. Whew. At that point I was really starting to sweat.

“Who?” I asked. She opened her mouth to tell me, but before she could answer, I held up my hand and blurted out, “Wait! Let me guess! Quinlan?” 

“Ugh. No,” she replied, obviously not wanting to play guessing games.

“Okay, how about Proctor Teagan? He looks pretty synthy.”

“Yes.”

“One down! How about-”

“Is this really necessary?” griped Danse, who looked like he wanted to sock me right in the face. I ignored him.

“Uh…Scribe Neriah?”

“No! This is really hard for me Paladin, please stop.” 

Actually, that made me feel pretty bad. “I apologize Haylen.”

“It’s fine. The others are Dr. Madison Lee-”

“That makes sense,” I mumbled. After all, she worked in the Institute for a stint. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they replaced her long before she defected on the off chance that she went back to her roots.

“-Proctor Ingram, and-”

I interrupted her again. “Wait. Ingram?” My eyes shot open. “How did the Institute pull that one off? No offense, but she doesn’t exactly have…you know…legs.”

“Because she’s the last person the Brotherhood would have suspected, obviously. Now can you let Haylen finish?” Danse shot me a stern look. Or maybe that was just his face.

“…then, there’s…there’s…” Haylen brought her hands to her face and quietly began to cry, shielding her expression from us all.

“Oh man, it’s totally you, isn’t it?” said MacCready, hanging in the back door and holding a stack of mags.

“Yes,” she cried.

“Called it. Hey boss, can I swap out the comics in your backpack? I’ve already read these ones a dozen times. Maybe you’ve got some _Unstoppables_ upstairs or something?”

Sometimes I forgot MacCready was twenty-two. I glanced over my shoulder. “You know, kid, this isn’t really the best time.” 

“Oh.” He looked at the table. I was visibly shaken, I’m sure, if only because of the guilt I felt for killing Maxson. Haylen was a crying mess, and Danse was obviously uncomfortable offering what little physical affection he did, namely the compliant pats to her shoulder. The air was heavy, seconds dragging on and on. “Yeah…sorry. I’ll just go…” MacCready backed out of the doorway and retreated into the workshop. 

I turned back to the others and said, “I’m sorry, Haylen, this must be difficult for you.”

She pulled her rosy face from her hands and wiped her tears away. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just left and found Danse.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But that’s not even the worst part.”

“I’m here for you, Haylen. I’m listening.”

“The Brotherhood also replaced -”

-

“BOBBY!”

“Ah sh-crap! What?!” His rifle mod clattered to the workshop dock and bounced off the edge into the water. “Oh, great, now I’m gonna have to go fishing around for it. What’s so damn important that you have to ruin all my hard w-”

I gripped his shoulders and pressed our foreheads together. “Robert.”

“Ugh, stop calling me that.”

I ignored him and said, “We’re heroes!”

“Uh…we are?”

I proceeded to shake his shoulders. “Guess who the fuck is a synth? Guess?”

His jaw fell. “Shut up.”

My head was shaking up and down, this huge, stupid grin plastered across my own face.

“Holy crap! That’s great!” He clutched my wrists and looked to his left and to his right. “Where’s Danse and his girlfriend right now?”

“They’re still inside, so we have to be quiet.”

“Alright,” he whispered. “So what do they know about you killing Maxson?”

“Nothing…yet. I need you to back me on this. Can you do that?”

“Back you how?”

“Like this. Here’s our story:”

-

“So yeah, Father – my son – told me all about Maxson. I couldn’t tell anyone else because it would have blown my cover. Maxson found out I knew and shot himself.” So much for not lying to my friends. But what would the truth have done for Danse at that point? Better to let him believe that Maxson died doing what he thought was right for the Brotherhood. At least that was the excuse I told myself.

“It’s true,” said MacCready, who was obviously more comfortable bullshitting than I was. “I was there. Saw the whole thing go down, just after sunset, west of the airport.”

Danse and Haylen were sitting on my couch now. Danse looked pale. “Ad victoriam, Elder Maxson, ad victoriam,” he whispered dramatically.

“Wait,” said Haylen, “Lance Captain Kells said you didn’t know where Maxson was.”

“Oh. I uh…” Shit. Think quick, Nate, think quick. Jesus. I was about to blow my cover.

“Oh come on,” MacCready cut in, “give the guy a break. He was such a wreck after watching Maxson blow his brains out that he freaked out and skipped town just to get away from all the carnage. Just ask anyone in Far Harbor, or better yet, go ask the Nakanos. Can you really blame him for wanting to get away?

Haylen sighed. “I suppose not. I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult for you, Paladin.”

What came out of my mouth wasn’t a word so much as a squeak. Oh god, I was such a terrible liar. What was I doing? Should I just come clean? I was sweating bullets, face bright red. How were they not onto me? Did they really trust me that much? 

Danse stood up from the couch. “Haylen has decided to stay with me for now. As far as Proctor Teagan, Proctor Ingram, and Doctor Lee go, the Brotherhood _will_ find out about them, and they _will_ end their lives.” He gave me a stern look. “A few months ago, I would have agreed with them. But after everything you’ve done for me, and now for Haylen, all I can say is that if you’d like them to have a second chance at life, you’d better move quickly. I can’t condone it, but I want you to know I support you.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “I trust you with my life.”

Oof.

“Implicitly.”

STAAAAHP.

“Besides, once they discover the reality behind Elder Maxson, you’re going to have to step up.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You don’t know?” Danse raised a brow. “With me out of the picture and Maxson deceased, there’s only one person left capable of carrying on the role of Elder.”

“Oh,” I replied with a big, wide, fake grin. “Well fuck me.”


	26. Letterhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate tries to do what's right while Hancock tries to do Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too bad you can't install a six-crank laser capacitator on love. Overcharge that shit and just, BLAM, now everyone's getting along.

Hancock and I sat opposite one another at the Old State House, he on his couch and me on…well, his other couch. Jet canisters and cigarette butts littered the table. Something stirred in that expression of his, and I couldn’t tell what it was. After all, he hadn’t followed up with me on what he’d said before he ran off. Instead, he wanted to hear about my problems first.

So I told him. I told him everything Danse and Haylen told me, except I even went so far as to tell him I lied to Danse’s face. 

“So, am I an asshole?”

“Depends,” answered the ghoul. He still felt a little distant. “Did you lie because it was right, or did you lie to cover your own ass?”

“Both? I mean, there’s not a doubt in my mind that Danse would be happier knowing Maxson did the ‘right’ thing,” I made air-quotes, “the ‘right’ thing meaning ‘right’ by the Brotherhood’s standards.”

“Offing himself to uphold the Brotherhood’s morals, you mean.”

“As opposed to covering up his identity and lying to the entire Brotherhood, which is exactly what he was doing. Yeah.”

“Fair point. But you also lied to cover your own ass.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I asked in desperation, offering a pleading look. “We killed Maxson because he’s a radical extremist. This isn’t about politics, Hancock, this is about me killing Danse’s closest friend.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you followed through.”

“Yeah, I probably should have, but I didn’t.” I leaned back on the couch, feeling defeated.

“Look, if you ask me, we did the right by thing killing Maxson. He’s done nothing but cause problems for synths and ghouls all over the Commonwealth, even human settlers. But you know damn well to do right by your friends; you chose to make Danse your friend even after I told you it was a bad idea, and now you have to decide how you’re gonna do right by him _and_ your people.”

“How?”

“Maybe you can’t.”

“Then how am I supposed to win?”

“You really think this is about coming out on top? It’s about loyalty, self-sacrifice, and doing right by other people. You want my two caps? Either cut Danse loose or come clean. You don’t get both.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ever want to get a good night’s sleep again, then you’re gonna have to tell him the truth sooner or later. I know you, Sunshine. This is gonna eat away at you until there’s nothing left anymore.”

A grim statement, even from Hancock. But he was right. Either I had to stop being a part of Danse’s life, or I would have to tell him what really happened. I knew what I had to do. And like a coward, I intended to do it by letter. But for now, there were other matters to attend to. 

“Thanks Hancock. I want you to know I really took that advice to heart. Now…can you talk to me about last night?”

“Heh. Speakin’ of coming clean…” He adjusted himself on the couch and leaned forward with his elbows against his knees. “Dunno what else there is to say. I love you.”

I blinked. A strange sensation filled my insides. Warm but hollow, full but empty. “I mean, I love you too, man…”

“Come on, you know that ain’t what I’m saying. I’m in love with you.”

The hollowness was spreading deeper and deeper, slowly replaced by something heavier. It felt like a ship sinking against a tall wave. 

“Hancock…I don’t know what to say.”

“So don’t. But there it is.”

“Uh…”

Wow. He was in love with me? That was maybe the last thing I expected. Hancock and I played around all the time. We’d been fuckbuddies ever since I left the vault. Aside from that, he was one of my closest friends, somebody I trusted with my life. But to be in love with me romantically? 

I had no idea how I felt. Strangely, the idea didn’t turn me off. Did this mean I was in love with him, too? On the other hand, my thoughts kept travelling back to MacCready. Whenever I saw him gripe or complain or laugh or smile, everything around me melted into nothing and all I could see was him. 

It was like that even before I blew him, as crass as that statement sounds. I had just never put two and two together. Back then, I was under the illusion that he was straight, still committed to his wife to such an extent that even if he wasn’t straight there’d be no possibility of us ever getting together. He was off the table. Period. So as soon as that changed, I was all over him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every waking second of every day, all I cared about was Robert Joseph MacCready. And if he had a kid and a wife – an entire family – once before, then maybe he wouldn’t be against the idea of…

No. I wasn’t going to think about that. This was about Hancock. 

“I’m gonna head over to the Rexford for a while, maybe clear my head.”

“Yeah. You do you, Elder Sunshine.”

“No, just…no.”

Hancock chuckled and picked up an inhaler of jet off the table with a wink.

-

_Danse, I’m writing to let you know that you’re one of my closest friends, and even though we haven’t always seen eye to eye, I want you to know that I care about you and that I_

“Ugh.” I crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the garbage, taking another swig of my whiskey. MacCready was off in the VIP room probably flirting with some poor Goodneighbor girl while I tried my hand and coming clean. I guess that involved another night of whiskey at the hotel. This time I would forego the Silver Shroud costume, though.

_Danse, this is Nate. I really enjoyed the time we spent together getting to know each other, and now there’s something I need to tell you. I killed Elder Maxson in cold blood because I’m a stupid spineless piece of shit! WHEEEEE FUCK FUCK FUCK_

I scribbled a little drawing of me shooting myself in the head before it joined the last dozen drafts in the garbage. An hour later, I was wasted.

The door opening drew my attention away from my ‘writing,’ and by writing I meant playing Red Menace on my Pipboy. The guy on my screen met his untimely fate so I shut off the screen and glanced up. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey brother,” said Hancock, and we bumped fists. “Christ, you want me to get you a coffee, maybe counteract that booze you been drinkin’?”

“Nah. I’m in my happy place.”

“If this is your happy place, then we’re in real trouble.”

I laughed while Hancock took a seat on my bed. I spun around in the chair and handed over the most recent draft of my letter. “What do you think? Too wordy?”

He cleared his throat while the rickety, old door swung shut of its own volition. Or maybe it was the ghost of last week’s drunk Nate closing it as a warning: don’t you dare go back out there in this state and make the same mistakes, you fool.

“Danse, I killed Elder Maxson before I knew he was a synth,” read Hancock aloud. “I can’t sit idly by and watch the Commonwealth suffer at the hands of the Brotherhood any longer. You have always believed that the Brotherhood upholds justice, and if the rest of the Brotherhood were more like you, you’d be right. But not all members of the Brotherhood demonstrate the kind of integrity and honesty I see in you. Their tactics and methods of liberation have destroyed the lives of innocent people, human, synth and ghoul. They’re brutal, Danse. I felt killing Maxson was the right thing to do. Now I’m not so sure. Either way, you know that the Brotherhood and the Railroad will be at war soon enough. They practically are already, but there will come a time when that war becomes official, when the Brotherhood, the Railroad, and the Institute throw everything they have at one another to defend what they think is right. I was always going to side with the Railroad. That was never up for debate.

“When that day comes, I hope and pray that you and Haylen are long gone. Please leave the Commonwealth. You know that if the Brotherhood finds you, they’re going to kill you both. I’m not going to become Elder. I’m not going to try and change things for the better. I’m going to stand up for the Commonwealth in the only way I feel is right: to take out the Institute, free every, last synth inside of it, and restore the Minutemen so that we can all live freely and peacefully. 

“I’m sorry that I can’t tell you this in person. I’m too much of a coward to do it. I want you to know that you were one of the best friends I ever had. I will never forget your passion or loyalty; those are traits that I try to uphold myself thanks to you. I’ll never be half the man you are, but I hope I can come close someday. Maybe then I would have made wiser decisions. I’m sorry for everything. Nate.”

Hancock looked up from the letter. “Heavy stuff. You alright?” 

But I wasn’t. I was drunk and silently crying, slumped over my desk like a big, fat weeny. How could I have done this to Danse? What was I thinking? I guess at the time, I was thinking: Maxson’s a murderer! Murder’s bad! If I murder, there will be less murder! Durrr!

When I didn’t respond, Hancock said, “You know, if the Brotherhood thinks you’re out looking for Maxson, they’ll lay off long enough for you to come up with an attack plan on them _and_ the Institute.”

I sniffled and stared down at the desk, quietly asking, “What, you don’t think word’ll spread that I’m a traitor?”

“Nah. Only people who know are Danse and Haylen, right? They’re fugitives. Nothin’ to gain by turning you in. And hey, Danse may not forgive you for this, but he ain’t the sort to out you.”

I nodded. He was right. I may have fucked up my entire relationship with Danse, but the Brotherhood could stay in the dark for as long as I needed. For now, they’d continue to do whatever they did – hunt for tech, pop a synth or two, et cetera – while they inevitably discovered the secrets on Maxson’s terminal like Haylen did. And once those secrets were out, they’d send knights looking for me. _Paladin Nate, did you know all these Brotherhood people are synths?!!_ And I’d say no, I didn’t know that Haylen and the others were synths, only Maxson, which is why I’m out looking for him. Sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Institute double-agent business and all that, I’m sure you understand.

And they’d buy it. 

“This is too much…”

“What’s too much?”

“Everything! How am I supposed to do this, Hancock?! I’m just some guy from a vault! How can I change anything?! The Commonwealth is suffering! And I’m making some real stupid decisions, man!”

“Whoa. Breathe.” He got up from the bed and stepped behind me, setting his rough hands against my shoulders. “You and the Railroad are gonna take out the Institute. _And_ the Brotherhood. That’s it.”

“That’s…it?”

“No. There’s one more thing: you’re gonna _win._ You know why?”

I blinked some tears away and glanced over my shoulder with a shrug.

“Because you’ve got one thing that they don’t.”

“Love?”

“Love? What? No! You’ve got me! The badassest mayor in the Commonwealth!” He squeezed my shoulders and rocked me back and forth. “Love? Jesus Christ.”

“I’m drunk, alright? Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about?” 

“Based on your letter, yeah actually. You’re being pretty clear.” He spun my chair around and got on his knees. His hands came to rest on either of my legs. “Sunshine, you did the right thing by writing that letter. Stay true to the people who are loyal to you, and everything else will fall into place.”

“You think so?”

“Been around long enough to understand how loyalties work, yeah.” Hancock eased my legs open while I watched curiously. “Now if you don’t mind, think I’ll finish what I started last night.”

“And what’s that?”

Hancock reached for my zipper. “Better if I just show you…”


	27. Breakup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night does not go as planned. Neither does the next year of Nate's life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by Sad Trombone and World's Tiniest Violin.

I leaned against the back of the chair and trembled, legs draped around the mayor’s shoulders. My pants were somewhere on the floor and the man’s face was buried in between my legs. He was swallowing my entire cock. If this was his idea of an apology, then…well, actually, it was a pretty good apology.

He’d been at it for ten, fifteen minutes. Did he ever get tired? Jaw sore? Mouth achy? If that was the case then he was persistent as hell because he was still just as invested as when he first started. He was still sucking me from top to bottom, bottom to top, purposefully swallowing down around me so I could feel that tight squeeze. Since I had come earlier that morning it was taking me a little while to find release, but I was getting there.

His tongue slid up my dick. Twirled around my head. He sucked it. Took me back to my base. Swallowed. 

“Oh yeah, right there…”

He swallowed again. And again. And again. There we go. Oh god. 

“Uh, hi,” said MacCready. I hadn’t even seen the door open. My heart just about jumped out of my chest when I realized someone was there, but I calmed down in a hot second.

“Mm…hey,” I waved, figuring that after what we’d all been through together, it would be fine to keep going. Obviously Hancock felt the same because he kept on truckin’. Up and down. Down and up. Another swallow. I groaned and tilted my head back.

MacCready chuckled and closed the door, setting down his bag next to mine at the end of the bed and looking us over. “Wow. Looks like quite the party. And to think, this would have been weird for me to walk into a week ago.”

“Oh, fuck, John, right there…” My balls were starting to get tense. I needed release. “Mm…join in?” I asked MacCready, not able to formulate an entire sentence what with the current happenings. Hancock took me to the back of his throat. “Ohhh…” I rocked my hips. God that was good. Wasn’t gonna last much longer.

MacCready awkwardly shifted his standing weight and said, “Actually, uh…I just came.”

“Jerking off in the VIP room huh?” I laughed. That was a nice mental image. R.J. spread out over the couch with his pants around his knees, shirt pulled up showing off the blonde hair across his belly, stroking himself so good that he leaked onto himself like he did earlier. 

“Actually, I hooked up with someone.” 

Hancock kept at it, but I felt like the rest of the world stopped. “Who?” I asked. 

“Eh, some trader passing through.”

“And did you at least get his name?”

“Yeah, but I think she wanted to keep it on the down low, no offense.”

She? 

She.

_She._

** _SHE?!_ **

Why did that make me so angry? Seriously? Why was I feeling so…so…_livid?_ A million thoughts rushed through my mind. Was she really more important to him than me? What if she had an STD? Was I gonna catch something the next time MacCready and I slept together? Did he use a condom? What the hell was he thinking?

“Uh, boss?”

I guess there was a look on my face. I shoved Hancock’s head back and scrambled for my pants.

“Whoa, not gonna finish?” asked the mayor, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Ain’t like you.”

“Y’know, I’m not feeling so great all the sudden.” I snagged my smallclothes and pants and rushed to put them on.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that MacCready was off banging women instead of me. And it sure as shit wasn’t fair for me to have these feelings. I didn’t own MacCready; he was his own man, and yes, he was bi or whatever, fine. That was fine.

Except at the time, it wasn’t. Not for me. It really, really wasn’t.

“What’s your deal?” asked MacCready, obviously annoyed at my attitude.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe I’m just put off because you’d rather be boning down on some random bitch than me.”

He made a face I had never seen him make before. It was a peculiar mixture of anger, confusion, and maybe even a little bit of hurt. Before I even had the chance to think over my hasty words, the mayor’s figure obscured MacCready’s vision from me.

“What did you just say?”

I was about to repeat myself when I realized exactly how vile my words were. And Hancock was happy to remind me.

“Not okay.”

I swallowed hard.

“Number one,” he slapped a digit into his opposite palm, “you treat women with respect in my town. I think it’s stupid I gotta tell you that. Being gay doesn’t give you a pass and you should know better. Number two,” another finger, “you don’t get to act like an asshole because your pride is threatened. And number three, you curb that jealousy right now if you’re gonna have an open sex life. You dig?”

“I…”

“How do you think I felt when you fucked Maxson? Or MacCready?”

“Wait, what?” rasped MacCready. He sounded heartbroken.

“Do you think I wanted to share you with anyone? Well I didn’t. But that’s who you are, and I knew if I wanted you at all, I had to let you live on your terms. You want to fly solo with MacCready? Then tell him so and don’t string him along…not like _some_ people I know.”

Hancock gave me one final, hard look before he shoved past me, shoulder bumping me to the side. I didn’t know what to do. Everything felt so surreal. I never knew Hancock was jealous of MacCready. He sure didn’t act like it. But I guess that was in fact the case. All I could do was stand there with my arms hanging stupidly at my sides while MacCready looked back and forth from Hancock leaving the room back to me, back to Hancock’s boots disappearing behind the door, back to me, and finally, back to the door.

“Crap,” he groaned, and took off after Hancock. “Wait!” I heard him holler out in the hallway. I could hear them talking for about twenty, thirty seconds. It wasn’t a long dialogue, but it was obviously heated, and by the time it was done, I heard the mayor growl,

“This ain’t about you, MacCready! Now leave it the fuck alone!”

MacCready appeared only to grab his bag and say, “Uh…I should go.”

“Yeah?”

“I think that’d be best right now. Come find me when you get your head on straight,” he snapped, grabbing his bag and leaving. The thing is though, I didn’t get my head on straight. Not for a long, long time. 

I gave them both some space, hitting up the Railroad and setting to work on fixing the Commonwealth without them. Meanwhile, Hancock stuck around in Goodneighbor and from what I heard, MacCready hung around the area taking odd jobs for a while. I went back to Goodneighbor for ammo with Deacon once. I thought about heading over to the Third Rail or the Old State House, but I stuck my tail between my legs and walked back out the gate.

While I prepared with the Railroad, the Brotherhood fell into disrepair. Last I heard, Dr. Lee, Proctor Teagan and Proctor Ingram were killed. I’m not sure how. I chose not to ask. All the while, I was still out “looking for Maxson,” who everybody believed was still alive and on the run. As Elder – a position I did end up taking – I commanded everyone else to follow suit, sparing no expense and scouring the Commonwealth for Maxson who needed to ‘answer for his crimes as an escaped synth.’ With everyone away on active duty, infiltrating the Prydwen and blowing it to bits was a cakewalk. 

Paladin Danse paid me a visit after that, Haylen in tow. He traveled all the way across the Commonwealth just to look me in the eyes to get one last glimpse the monster who ruined his life. He didn’t say or do anything, just looked at me, shook his head, and left. Some days, I wondered if he would have been happier dying as a Brotherhood synth than living in exile with Haylen. I went to the recon bunker a week later, but nobody was there. All of his belongings were gone. I think he really did leave the Commonwealth. Either way, I knew I would never see him again.

And finally, we wiped out the Institute. I’m not really sure what to say about it. It was bloody, and a lot of people died. Fortunately, all of my immediate companions survived. Piper wanted to throw a party in Diamond City afterward, but I couldn’t be a part of it. I let her and Nick deal with the fallout of McDonough revealing himself as a synth and went off to finish odd jobs.

For a year. Well, a year and change.

I moved out of Taffington and set up shop way up north at Kingsport Lighthouse. It was quieter there, and I was closer to the Nakano residence, so travelling to Far Harbor was easier. Hell, I was probably there half the time I wasn’t at Kingsport, cavorting with Old Longfellow (who had become somewhat of a father figure to me) and drifting like flotsam on the ruddy docks while the storms and the fog and time passed by.

I missed my life from before. What little I had left – Sanctuary Hills and Codsworth – were so distant now. Codworth and I hadn’t seen each other in months, and the Longs and Sturgess took care of Sanctuary. I hoped everything was okay there, but didn’t care to go back and check. After all, my husband was still right there in that cryo casket. Never did give him a proper burial. And the thought that haunted me the most was that it wasn’t too late. I could still do something, and yet, I didn’t have the energy _to_ do it.

I missed my companions. Nick, Piper, Cait, Curie, Deacon, and Hancock all helped me take out the Institute. But not MacCready. I thought about asking him, but Hancock told me he was off on a job. I could have waited for him to get back or set off to find him, but I just didn’t. He didn’t talk to me much after that, if at all.

Nick and Piper were still raising hell in Diamond City; they were my rock. Unchanged. Unwavering. The same do-gooders as they always were. Cait got clean and started doing odd jobs for the Minutemen. Mercenary work, mostly, but with the Minutemen, she was able to get her fill of bloodshed for the right reasons, killing super mutants or raiders. Curie and I grew close for a stint, but that didn’t last long; after getting her synth body and helping me take out the Institute, she set to work on recovering whatever she could from the ruins…for science. And Deacon was still with the Railroad. There was plenty of work to do after the Institute was gone; rehoming synths, finding them jobs, you name it. 

Hancock and I never really fixed things. As time went on, the tension settled, but we never had a proper discussion about the night we all split up. We were amicable at best, shooting each other awkward glances at worst. I went out of my way to check in with him at the Old State House last time I was in Goodneighbor, but he wasn’t home.

And MacCready…

God I missed him so much it hurt. I had dreams about him. Every time I found a sniper rifle in a steamer trunk I pictured him rotating that achy shoulder of his. Whenever there was a bad smell I thought about the way he complained. I missed every part of him. Having him at my side, talking to him, making love to him, kissing him, hearing about his day, his witticisms, all of him. 

But he left the Commonwealth. I’m not sure when. Not long after the Institute was gone. Guess he went back to be with his son. And why not? He had the money to do it after all the time we had traveled together. No reason he should stay.

One fall day, I was traipsing about the coast setting up another MILA device for Tinker Tom. Yes, he still had more of them. Yes, the Institute was gone. No, he didn’t believe that they were really gone. Yes, there had to be some “secret underground bunker” somewhere, which turned into, “or maybe, an _above ground_ bunker! Yeah! Because underground is too obvious!” At least that’s what he’d told me two days ago.

“Oh, Tom,” I sighed to myself, scratching my full beard and adjusting my bandolier. I glanced up at the setting sun. Yeah. I had time to do this. And so what if it got dark? Not like I had anywhere to be these days.

I stared up at the Museum of Witchcraft. Why did Tom always want these things on the roof? There was atmosphere in other places too, you know. I sighed and set my bag down on the ground, sticking the MILA under my arm and hoisting myself up onto some ivy. It snapped in an instant and I fell onto the ground with a thud.

I grunted and got back up. You know what? No. Fuck it. I turned on the device, grunted once more, and chucked it. It landed on the roof without incident. Bam. Perfecto. 

There was another grunt, only it wasn’t me this time. I clutched my laser musket and sidled against the brick wall in the shadows. When I peeked around the side of the building, I saw some poor asshole being chased by a deathclaw. I took it he wasn’t having a super great day judging by the way he was scrambling for his rifle, ducking and weaving behind old cars and rubble. I sighed, cranked my gun to six, and sidled to the left of the building, my usual maneuver. 

The deathclaw roared and reeled its monstrous arm back. The man crouched behind a car so low that he was almost on his belly. I had seen this tactic before. The deathclaw was going to bat at the car and once it went flying, there would be a one, maybe two-second window for the guy to tear off in the opposite direction…assuming the car actually went flying and didn’t just roll over and crush him. Risky, but no other option when you’re pinned down.

The deathclaw was about to strike. Shit. What if the car _did_ roll over and kill him? “HEY!” I shouted. This drew the attention of both the man and the monster. I poised my rifle and fired a shot right into her face. It was a good shot; the deathclaw staggered back long enough for the man to run out from behind the car and find better cover by the museum. 

She was charging again soon enough, this time focused on me. I ducked behind the building – the other man on the right – and charged my laser six more times. The deathclaw skid around the building like she was sliding into home plate. “Sorry, darlin’,” I said, and unloaded right into her face. That was all it took for her to collapse into a bloody pile on the ground.

Twelve cranks total? That wasn’t enough to kill a deathclaw. I was sure if I examined her she would have looked like swiss cheese, because there was no way our mystery man didn’t do a number on her first. Speaking of our guy, I turned around, still catching my breath. “Whew. You okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he answered, gasping for air himself. “I love when you don’t answer your letters and I have to come looking for you.”

“Wait. MacCready?” I didn’t recognize him. He looked so different, like he had aged five, ten years.

“Of course it’s me, asshole. Leave it to you to jump in front of random scavvers.” He reached into his pocket and started to light up a smoke regardless of his ragged breathing.

I dropped my gun. Oh my god. “MacCready…it’s been…”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. Look, I really needed to talk to you, so-”

“So you came all the way from DC?! Is…is Duncan here?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about. I guess my letters were getting sent to your old place. Didn’t know you moved out of Taffington Boathouse.”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m sorry, R.J. If I had known there were letters I would have written back, I swear it.”

He scratched his beard. And by beard, I really mean it was a full beard. Since it had grown out, I noticed colors I didn’t before. Blond highlights and brown lowlights, even a little copper. 

“Hey, I believe you. Just forget about it. I’d rather put all that shit behind us and talk. Assuming you want to talk.”

“Of course!” I bellowed. I wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Oh my god, you don’t even know. But for now, I just said, “Let’s get going. Dinner’s on the stove. You’ll stick around, right?”

He swallowed. “Are you comfortable with that, after…?”

“MacCready. I want you to stay.” _I never wanted you to go. Ever. And now you’re back, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if you leave again. Don’t you fucking leave tonight._ “Please stay.”


	28. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later, a certain somebody returns to the Commonwealth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Danse! Hahaha no. Just kidding. Ever hear the term FUBAR? Yeah. Danse ain't coming back, Nate.

I used to have glowing jars of radiation at Taffington. They were beautiful. Lit up the entire house like fireflies. Well, those fireflies ended up making me very, very sick, so Kingsport was home to a good, old-fashioned generator and run-of-the-mill ceiling lights and standing lamps.

I had fixed the place up a couple months back, repairing the walls, installing plumbing, the works. The Minutemen were growing, and we had more resources now that the Brotherhood wasn’t trying to cockblock us at every opportunity. Even though there were plenty of recruits, I lived alone. I tended to the mutfruit patch alone, used the workshop down at my dock alone, maintained the lighthouse alone, and ate alone. Tonight’s menu: stew. Ingredients: radstag? I think?

“Well, it looks good, but I’m familiar with your cooking, and looks can be deceiving,” said MacCready, walking around the living room-slash-kitchen. He browsed the old, salvaged art on the walls and looked over my belongings. “Got a couple new dollies, huh?”

“Just one,” I said. “I don’t go exploring too often these days.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied. “Plenty of places to poke around in out here.”

“Well, flying solo doesn’t have the same appeal.” I stirred the stew, leaning over the stove. When I looked over at the quiet MacCready, I saw his pained expression. “That wasn’t a swing at you, you know.”

“No, I know…I just miss things. We had a good thing going.”

“Yeah, we did. Do you want a beer, or?”

“Uh, sure.”

I left the spoon in the pot and fetched him a beer from my fridge. Didn’t have much else in there; just beer, Nuka Quantum to keep me awake through the morning, and cuts of meat. Real healthy. I set the neck of the bottle against the counter and slammed my fist down, popping off the bottlecap; an old trick I learned in basic.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He paused, then sat down in the closest dining chair to the kitchen. Taffington’s lighting was always yellow. Now, it was soft and white. It made his eyes stand out. They were still that same shade of gunmetal from before, the one that reminded me of ammo, _Guns and Bullets,_ and using my workbench.

“Think it’s about ready if you’re hungry.” 

“Actually, can you hold off?” he asked.

I nodded and turned off the stove, leaning against the counter. “Sure. You alright?”

He didn’t answer right away, just stared off into nothing with this hazy expression. I couldn’t get over that beard of his. I wonder if he felt the same way about mine. We were both in dire need of a barber. Not that it didn’t suit him. Actually, it was new; refreshing; masculine. I liked it. 

“I want to tell you why I left,” he said at last. And so I listened. “Hancock told me he thought you were in love with me, you know, back when we were all…” he trailed off. Yeah. When we were fucking daily. I remembered. “Well, I panicked. So I backed off for a while. I figured you’d come around, or I would, or hell, maybe Hancock would, but nothing ever happened. You threw yourself into your work with the Railroad and sort of just disappeared…

“You didn’t even invite me to storm the Institute. But you invited Hancock and Valentine and everyone else. I was so angry with you.” He balled up his fists. “I couldn’t believe after all that time we spent together you let some stupid feelings get in the way of our partnership. Especially when you were the one who told me that fucking each other wouldn’t change anything. But lo and behold, I’m off in Southie on some shitty job, and _boom!_, I see the biggest explosion I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I looked at the ground. I couldn’t make eye contact anymore. God, I felt terrible.

“I knew what you did. And I knew you did it without me. So I figured, hey, since I mean that much to you, why stick around?” He gave a sardonic laugh. It spoke volumes. He was so hurt by what I did. “I went back to DC to be with my son which opened up all kinds of feelings I didn’t even know I had. Like how I chose you over Duncan.”

“Is that true, though?” I asked, finally glancing back up at him. “You never stopped loving your son.”

“Of course not, but I could have gone back for him any time. I was so goddamn in love with you that I didn’t though.”

“You were in love with me?”

“Matter of fact I am- uh…was.”

I clamped my lips tightly shut. _Was,_ huh?

“Anyway, after losing Lucy, loving anybody else seemed impossible. I got scared. So I went to DC to be with Duncan. I’m sure there was a way I could have fixed things, maybe had both of you, but…” he shook his head.

“Where’s Duncan right now? Please tell me Nick is babysitting him or something equally as hilarious.”

MacCready looked down at the table in thought. He swallowed. “When I got to DC, he wasn’t there.”

I tilted my head to the side. “So…where was he?”

He shook his head. “Nowhere, Nate. He was nowhere.” His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper. 

I pulled up a chair next to him and set a hand against his shoulder. I was so nervous I almost didn’t do it, but…something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong with MacCready.

“I don’t understand, R.J.”

He kept his head facing the table, features obscured by the shadow that my lamp cast over his hat. That same, old hat, save for a few new holes. A single tear fell from the shadows onto the table. 

“He didn’t survive the cure.”

I felt the blood rush from my face. “What?”

“They lied. They FUCKING lied!” He slammed his fists down on the table. “The entire time!” His voice was like thunder, resonating off of the poorly stitched walls of my house. “They told me Duncan lived, that he got the cure and everything was fine but he died, Nate, he died and they kept lying to me to cover their own asses! There was nobody there for me when I got there! Nobody! Duncan was dead for months before I knew the truth!”

He was sobbing, screaming, fists white. 

“And I realized that the only thing I had left in the world was you…YOU!” He shoved my hand away so violently I almost fell out of the chair. “The only man I’ve ever loved, and the only one to screw me over like you did! Making promises you can’t even keep!” 

I. Felt. _Vile._

“So I came all the way back up here, hoping for…oh I dunno…closure?! Or hope?! I don’t even know why I’m here! I’m still so fucking mad at you for abandoning me like that!” 

“Never again,” I said. I was crying too. Hard. Silently, but hard.

“And how can I trust you? Huh?” He sounded less angry now and more hurt, like he was clutching at the very last straw of hope before giving up entirely. There was no way I was about to let him down. Not again. Never, ever again.

“Please,” I whined, and reached out to touch him. He jerked back momentarily before taking a shuddering breath and eased forward. I cautiously put my arms around him and pulled him into such a tight embrace that we both ended up on the floor. “Please don’t go again…I promise I’m here for you…as long as you want me…forever…”

“How do I know you’re not gonna let me down again?” he sobbed.

My breath hitched. “You don’t.”

I thought about the first time I met MacCready…

_”Now what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”_

_”You don’t. That’s part of the risk, right?”_

_”Heh. Can’t argue with that!"_

I held his face in my hands. “That’s part of the risk, right?”

“I’m tired of taking risks, Nate…I’m…_tired…_”

“Me too, R.J. God I’m so tired. Ever since you left that’s all it’s been every day. It’s exhausting.” I stroked his hair. “Please stay.”

“What am I gonna do about my son? And what about your son? He died, too, and you never even talked about it with me…”

“We’ll have time to talk, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

-

It took a while before either of us had much of an appetite. We took our time, holding each other and crying. Finally, I poured us each a bowl of stew. I picked at mine, but he dug right in. Aside from the obvious, not much had changed about him.

“I’m sorry I said all those things,” he said with a mouthful of brahmin. Or was it bloatfly? “I just needed to get all of that out, or I wasn’t gonna get past it.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be hurt by me.”

“Is it weird that I’m not anymore?”

“What do you mean?” I shoved a tato from one side of the bowl to the other. I couldn’t stress-eat. MacCready, on the other hand… There was a dribble of stew in his beard. I tried to suppress a smile.

“Well, barring all the sudden feelings that got dredged up tonight, I stopped being angry at you a long time ago. Right after I found out about…about my son…” he stuttered. After collecting himself, he continued. “I left shortly after you took out the Institute, and it took about a month to get to DC, so…yeah, I guess I’ve been on my own without a family for nine, ten months now.”

“MacCready, that’s…” I shook my head. “Sorry, that just feels surreal. What have you been doing all this time?”

“Same thing I’ve always done. Odd jobs. Mercenary work. Running with the wrong people and changing my mind. Guess I’m pretty predictable, huh?” He gave a small, weary laugh. It was similar to the way he used to laugh, but there was something off about it. He felt older than he was now. Speaking of which, I wanted to follow up.

“So you’re twenty-three now, huh?”

“Twenty-four, actually. Not to make you feel worse than you already do, but yeahhh, you kinda missed my birthday.”

“Oof. I’m sorry MacCready. When uh…when is your-”

“Same day you blew up the Institute.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah. Kinda regret not making a wish when the candle blew out. You know, the candle being the giant, fucking explosion.”

I nodded. “Riiight. So, I notice you curse now. A lot.”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “Not like it matters anymore. You remember why I stopped in the first place, right?”

Yeah. I did. It was a promise to his son. A promise to Duncan. I nodded and looked into my stew, wishing I could just melt into it and disappear. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to keep dragging the conversation back in that direction. I know it’s hard to hear.”

“No, it’s important to be able to talk about it.”

“Well…I think I’m done talking about that. So, what about you? Thirty-three, right?”

“Yup. Only a decade older than you, which totally isn’t creepy.”

“Hey, this is the Commonwealth. Either you grow up and get smart or you die. Don’t think age has the same weight it used to back before the war. Hey, you haven’t even touched your food. If I think your cooking is edible, you know it can’t be that bad.”

“Sorry,” I answered, “I just…I think I need a minute. I’m gonna step outside. Make yourself at home, alright?”

I grabbed my leather jacket and saw myself out. It was frigid, even for early fall. I had just passed my two-year vault-i-versary as I called it. October 23. I headed down the steps to the dock and leaned over the railing watching the dormant ships bob in the distance. Sometimes I would see active ones zipping across the water, headed to Far Harbor or god only knows where. My own boat, _The Mariner,_ was nestled snugly against the dock. I had named her after an old, Far Harbor friend who had long since passed. 

I lit up a smoke, something I did often ever since MacCready left. Part of me did it because it reminded me of him. Another part of me just wanted to keep my hands busy. I exhaled, watching the smoke drift against the backdrop of frenzied starts. It was a perfect, clear night with only the sounds of bells in the distance and waves lapping at the shore to keep me company. Well, and MacCready.

_R.J._ How could he really be back? This couldn’t be reality. I was certain I had screwed everything up beyond fixing. There was no way he was hanging out inside of my house right now. Maybe it was all a dream. A big, fucked up dream. 

And what did he mean he loved me? And that he came back for me? Were we together again? Was he going to crash at my place? What did anything mean anymore? We weren’t going to start adventuring together like we used to, were we? Was I going to end up making proper amends with Hancock, too? Or set out to find Danse? 

“That yours?” asked MacCready. I hadn’t even heard him approach. 

“Huh?”

“The boat, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s new. I used the Nakanos’ boat so much that Kenji finally squawked at me about getting one of my own. So I learned to sail.”

“Do you use it a lot?”

“Yeah. Every other week or so I haul off to Far Harbor. Don’t wanna be here, but I can’t sit still either.”

“Trust me, I know how that is.” He slid in next to me with his arms around his tiny waist. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Hey, this is probably too soon, but can I…”

A small arm slid around my waist. God, yes. Of course you can, you little idiot. I exhaled another puff of smoke before sticking my cigarette in between his lips. He chuckled and took a drag while I wrapped my arm around him. We stood there staring out at the water on that perfect, starry night. And for the first time in over a year, I finally felt like I was home.


	29. Dragged Out and Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that MacCready is back, Nate realizes it's time to set things right with Mayor Hancock. Things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey hey you you I don't like your ghoulfriend!_

As soon as the rain started, MacCready was out like a light. But I couldn’t sleep. There was way too much on my mind. Before MacCready nodded off on the couch, he asked me a question that kept me awake. He asked, “Were you ever in love with Hancock?”

I didn’t know what to say. Guess that was one mystery I never figured out. I know some people can love more than one person, but me? Besides, back when we all used to run together, I only had eyes for MacCready. Now, my dick? _That_ was another story. 

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered. I still felt nervous around Hancock even if we didn’t really talk much these days. Whenever I thought about our past affairs, I got that funny feeling in my stomach I got whenever I found a new bobblehead. And back when he told me he loved me, I distinctly recalled not wanting him to leave; the idea wasn’t a turn-off. Too bad I was an idiot and never followed up. Maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t too late?

It was pouring by the time I came downstairs in the morning. I pulled my leather jacket over my arms and glanced over at the couch. There was a nest of blankets, but where was the bird? The bird, it turned out, was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee.

“Hey, you’re up!” he sang.

“Mornin’.”

“Hope you don’t mind. Figured I’d help myself to something hot. It’s freezing today. Can’t believe it’s only October.”

“’S fine.” I sat down at the kitchen table with a small groan. “Grab me a cup?”

“You got it, boss.” He paused. “Er, Nate.”

Well that didn’t feel very good. By the time he joined me with our coffee, I had gotten up, grabbed something out of the safe under my desk offset the living room, and returned. He set down two cups, and I poured out two hundred and fifty caps.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Got a job for you. Interested?”

MacCready snickered. “Holy shit. Are you trying to buy me?”

“If it means you’ll start calling me boss again then yeah, I’m buying you. You still for sale?”

He had this big, goofy grin on his face. He clutched his cup, tipped back in his chair, adjusted his hat and said, “Depends. What’s the job?” As if he cared. He was just toying with me.

“Dunno yet.”

“Not a real satisfactory answer there, boss. Job could be anything. And since I don’t know the risks, I’m gonna have to charge more than two fifty.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know, to cover stims, ammo, that kind of stuff. Let’s just call it one million caps. Sound fair?”

“Oh yeah, MacCready, super fair.”

He laughed that same, old laugh of his. “I’m just messin’ with ya. ‘Course you can hire me again. You don’t actually gotta pay me though, you know.”

“Take the caps, MacCready.” 

“If you say so.” He set his chair back down on all four legs and began to collect them. “Guess it’s official, then. Let me know when you’ve got actual work for me.”

“Actually, I think I know where we’re headed first.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodneighbor.”

“Okay…” He scooped the last of the caps into his pocket. “This have anything to do with You Know Who?”

“Yeah. It’s just, if you came all this way to mend things, maybe I can too, you know? Maybe Hancock will hear me out.”

“Eh, maybe. When I didn’t find you at Taffington, I went asking around for you in Goodneighbor. The guy’s pretty peeved at you.”

“Oh…” I sipped my coffee. Great. Just great.

“Yeah, he’s still pretty sore that you dropped off the radar like that. Can’t say I blame him. No offense.”

“Man, I suck.”

“So fix it like you said. We gonna head out after coffee? It’s a long walk from here but it’s early enough that we can probably make it by noon.”

“I mean, I’d offer to sail us there, but…” But that would have been a terrible idea. I remembered our voyage to Far Harbor. That boy wasn’t about to set foot on another boat. Or so I thought.

“Eh. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a boat, MacCready.”

“Look, things don’t get to me like they used to. Not after…” he sighed. Not after Duncan.

After some coffee and dry Sugar Bombs, we packed our things like we used to before going on a big expedition and headed down to the docks. I always liked foggy rain. Well, except when I had to travel in it; it was a lot more charming when I could stay indoors and watch it from the safety and comfort of my own couch. I couldn’t see ten feet ahead of me, carefully maneuvering down the steps with MacCready at my heels.

“Sure you’re up for this?” I asked.

He hoisted himself into the boat. “Will you quit your worrying? I’m gonna be fine.”

-

“The hell happened to him?” mused Hancock. He hadn’t spoken that many words to me in months. The ghoul’s eyes were looking the mercenary up and down from the heavy bags under his eyes to his soiled boots. Fortunately, the rain and sea spray washed away most of the vomit.

“Sea travel,” I answered plainly.

MacCready wobbled. I snagged his duster and leaned him back into an upright position. Fine my ass.

“Better question,” I continued, “why are you dressed in drag?”

“It’s Halloween,” answered Hancock, adjusting his tits. A wad of tissue fell onto the floor of the Third Rail. He smoothed out the shiny, red fabric just in time for Magnolia to walk behind him with a glass of champagne wearing a familiar red, frock coat and tricorn hat.

“Does this mean you’re gonna sing tonight?”

“Heh. Don’t think the world is ready for that.”

“But they’re ready for…this?” So many sequins. 

“I’m sure as hell not,” said MacCready.

“Yet here you both are. So. Whaddya wanna talk about?”

I gestured for them to follow me and they did. Once we were in the VIP room, I closed the door. MacCready immediately flopped onto the couch, mumbling something about home sweet home while Hancock leaned against a wall. 

“Hancock, I…ah, shit. I’m terrible at this. Bear with me here. I know I clocked out for a while…a long, long time. I couldn’t believe that MacCready came all this way just to make things right between us. And I think that if MacCready can walk hundreds of miles to do it, then the least I can do is walk to Goodneighbor and do the same with you.”

“Didn’t you just say you sailed here?”

“Well, yes, but…ugh. You’re missing the point. I’m saying I want to make up with you, and apologize to you, and…” I swallowed. “Hancock, I think…I think I love you too.”

MacCready glanced up. We had talked about my feelings toward Hancock on the boat ride over. MacCready wasn’t sure how he felt about me and Hancock being together, but he told me it wasn’t a bad feeling. Just an unknown one. As far as MacCready and Hancock went, he stopped messing around with him after Hancock confessed his jealousy, but they didn’t necessarily part on bad terms. To the best of my knowledge, they were still friends. Lovers? Not so much. It was all kind of a clusterfuck of emotions, but MacCready and I were both open to exploring our feelings…even the ones involving Hancock.

“Heh.” A single titter. He didn’t so much as flinch. But even though he remained motionless, something changed in his expression. Like a switch was flicked. 

“So…” I shifted my weight. “So uh…yeah. There it is.”

“I’m gonna be real with you for a minute.”

“Please do.”

“I respect you, man. You did exactly what you said you were gonna do: you took out the Institute _and_ the Brotherhood, and the Commonwealth is a hell of a lot better off for it. We’ve got an entire warehouse full of synth refugees: doctors, merchants, some real talented folks. Goodneighbor’s never been in this good of shape, and that’s all thanks to you. Hell, you even set things right with Danse, at least as best as you could have. But.”

There it was. The but.

“But us? You and me? That was a long time ago. I was crazy about you. But you made it real clear that you wanted to be left alone. You never came back to Goodneighbor after you took out those Institute assholes. Least not to see me, just when you needed ammo. So what does that tell me?”

“I know I screwed up, Hancock, but I would really like to set things right.”

“Commendable. Look, I ain’t one for grudges. If this is about you coming around and apologizing-”

“It-it-it is! I am! I’m sorry, Hancock.”

“Well alright. Apology accepted. You needed some time to get your thoughts together. I get that. Consider it history. But as far as you and me go? Ain’t gonna happen.”

Now _I_ felt sick. “W-why?”

“Took me long enough to get over you. What makes you think I wanna put my heart back on my sleeve?”

“What sleeves?” snorted MacCready, eyeballing that sexy little number of his.

“Cute,” rasped Hancock. “But I’m serious. And Sunshine? You and me…” He took a few steps forward, setting a firm hand against my shoulder and looking me in the eyes. “We’re done.”


	30. The Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate receives therapy from an assaultron. The kids make room for one more on the boat. And finally, Nate and MacCready have a serious, serious talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearance by Nate's Boner.

“So then he said, ‘we’re done,’ and walked out of the VIP room. What am I supposed to do? I don’t feel like I can leave it like this, you know. Hancock has always told me to be honest with him, and if I’m being honest, I really want him back. But at the same time, I don’t wanna push the guy. I obviously broke his heart.”

The merchant looked like she was about to fire a laser into my face. “Are you buying, or what?”

I sighed. “Yeah. I’ll take whatever fusion cells you’ve got in stock. Thanks, KL-E-0.” She handed over the ammo and I pocketed it, listening to the rainfall and to Daisy next door telling MacCready how sorry she was to hear about Duncan. I peeked through the crack in the wall. The pretty ghoul was holding him in a tight embrace. “Well, guess I’d better hit the road.”

“You know,” said KL-E-0, “the way to a man’s heart is simple.”

“Is it shooting a hole through his chest?”

“That depends on the type of man. But if you really want to woo the mayor, might I make a suggestion?”

Oh? This I _had_ to hear.

“Offer him a big, fat dicking, baby.”

“WELP! Good to see you KL-E-0! Thanks for the advice, and uh, have a great day!”

MacCready rounded the corner wiping a couple of tears away. Looks like the conversation between him and Daisy had steered in a pretty emotional direction. But there was a small smile on his face, accompanied by a chuckle. “You know, it’s funny how you mishear people sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I coulda sworn I just heard KL-E-0 talking about dickings.”

-

“Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” MacCready furrowed his brow and stepped onto the boat. “Ugh.”

At least the rain was letting up a little. I set to work on untying _The Mariner_ from the dock, unwrapping layers and layers of rope. The sounds of mutated seabirds and distant gunfire were a peaceful addition to the classical radio that played over my Pipboy. As dangerous as the Commonwealth was, her sounds rang in my ears like a nostalgic tune; a reminder that I was still here, and that the world was still spinning even after everything humanity had done to destroy it.

“Ho, lee, shit,” said MacCready.

“What?” 

I glanced up. The merc was pointing toward the Shamrock Taphouse, nestled right alongside the waterfront. Somebody was approaching. I groaned and dropped the rope, ready to draw my musket. Man, I really didn’t want to fight anybody. I felt miserable after that dialogue with Hancock. I just wanted to get my poor, sick companion home and spend the rest of the day wallowing. Suddenly, my jaw fell. A familiar hat became visible through the fog.

“Looks like I almost missed you.”

I wanted to drop everything and hug him, fling my arms around him and just… No. It was too soon. Instead, I settled for a nod. “Uh, hey, Hancock. You aren’t thinking of joining us?” He was wearing his road leathers.

“Yeah, actually. Don’t like the way I left things back there. Felt right at the time, but…” Hancock looked off into the bay. “Dunno. Just wasn’t sitting right with me. Look,” he turned back to face me, “I’m not gonna pretend I don’t have hangups; believe me, I got plenty. But I’m hoping some of the things I’m feeling…well, I’m hopin’ I’m wrong. So I’ll do this, but you gotta be patient with me.”

“Of course!” I squealed. Jesus. I think I did love Hancock. “Anything you need, man.”

“Cool. So, we gonna set sail or what?”

-

“Thanks for letting me use your clippers,” shouted MacCready from the bathroom upstairs. 

I added another tato to the stew. It was dark outside now. The porch light created a cozy, little halo amidst the roaring storm. MacCready was busy tending to his beard upstairs while Hancock lounged on the couch picking through odd holotapes I’d discovered here and there. 

_“As the cats ascended the tree and began to devour Ricky’s friends and family, Ricky reflected on his decisions. His last words were, ‘I really wish I would have trusted my elders.’ The End.”_

The holotape ended with a mechanical click. “The fuck’s a squirrel?” asked Hancock, popping another mentat into his mouth. 

I opened the cassette drive and tossed the holotape back over to Hancock. “Wanna listen to another one?”

“Nah. I’m still pretty broken up over Ricky so I think I’ll need a minute.”

I chuckled and stirred the pot. Well. This was it. The three of us were back together again. Hancock seemed a little annoyed earlier when he asked what our first job was and I didn’t have an answer for him. Maybe he thought I wasn’t taking our renewed partnership seriously, and considering it was _only_ a platonic partnership - _that_ he made clear – having a job to do was crucial. I assured him that once we were back at home, I’d scour my list of quests and pick one worthwhile. 

It was gonna be tough. MacCready preferred to do quests that yielded caps while Hancock wanted to help those in need. The quests Hancock preferred – helping settlers, fending off raiders, et cetera – made MacCready feel like we weren’t doing anything productive. And the quests MacCready liked – looting, salvaging, yada yada – made Hancock feel like he was sitting on his hands too. Maybe I’d let them fight over a quest. Or maybe we could rock-paper-scissors. Although last time I tried that, Hancock pulled a knife on me, so.

Light footsteps padded down the rickety, old stairs. “Well look at you,” said Hancock, “think you lost about ten years.” When I glanced up, I felt a smile creep onto my face, cheeks burning. Wow. Just…wow.

He had shaved everything. There wasn’t even a goatee anymore. And good God, he looked so young. He had this dorky smile on his face, and for the first time, I noticed how thick his laugh lines were. His hat was gone and his hair which was quite long now was pulled back into a bun. Not all of it was long enough to reach, though, so odd pieces fell around either sides of his face and ears. God he was handsome.

When he smiled, I noticed two things. The first was that he was missing another tooth, the third one away from his two front teeth on the top. I wondered how that’d happened. The second thing I noticed was the thick scar stretching from the middle of his lip down his chin. Looks like he busted it open at some point.

I snapped my legs shut. Fuuucking hell. A boner? Seriously? And to make matters worse, Hancock said, 

“Well apparently the boss thinks you look good.”

“Ugh. Shut up.” I turned my back and went back to work on dinner.

-

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Heh. You know he’s only into you for your boat, right?” joked MacCready.

“Well, Hancock always did want to be a pirate.” I took a drag of my cigarette and sat back in the chair at the top of the lighthouse, watching _The Mariner_ dart across the water. I kept the Glowing One around for a while, but ultimately, it was loud and obnoxious. I settled on killing it and creating a sitting area with an old radio instead. Now, MacCready was hanging in the doorway. “You’re soaked. Get in here before you catch a cold.”

He smiled and joined me in the chair on the opposite side of the end table, but not before he removed his dripping, wet coat and hung it over the back. He was already in his plaid pajama pants and black, long-sleeve shirt. 

“Sleepy?”

“You kidding? I’m fucking exhausted.” It was still jarring to hear him curse like that. He must have sensed something was off about me because he said, “Sorry. I’ll try to watch my language.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“Why swear again? I mean, I know you’ve gotta process things in a way that makes sense for you, but I guess I’m just wondering, why not continue in his honor?”

“Because it’s make-believe,” he answered plainly. “Duncan is gone, Nate. I’m never going to get my son back. You and I both know that. What good does not swearing do anymore? It doesn’t make him any less dead.”

“Woof…”

“Yeah, I know. Those are harsh words. But they’re the truth. I was never gonna be able to move on if I didn’t start facing reality. I mean, I don’t know if I ever _can_ move on from this.” He took a small break, watching the lights of _The Mariner_ drift across the sea. “What about you? What about Shaun?”

I looked away. “Hm. What about him? Not much to say.”

“I know he ended up being an asshole, but he was still your son. You’ve gotta have some feelings about what happened at the Institute.”

“Of course I do, but…well, it’s like you said. What happened happened. There’s no changing that.”

A hand reached out and touched my arm. I turned to face the mercenary. “I’m sorry about Shaun.”

My heart sank. “I…thanks.”

His thumb grazed my clothing, a world-weary smile across his clean-shaven face. It wasn’t fair. He was twenty-four years old, for God’s sake. He was too young to have kids, let alone live through the loss of one. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it, R.J?”

“You’re barely thirty. Do you ever think about doing it all over again?”

“Doing what, exactly?” 

“I dunno…getting married, having kids?”

I chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“I…” I didn’t know. I mean, how _could_ I? After everything I’d lost, my husband, my son, and my son _again,_ how could I possibly want to settle back down? “Why, do you?”

“Well, yeah,” he confessed. “Look, I know I wasn’t ready to be a father. Lucy and I met right after I left Little Lamplight, and I got her pregnant when I was seventeen. So we got married and started a family. It was all kind of a whirlwind. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my wife with everything inside of me, but…” he inhaled. “But I wasn’t ready. You know how screwed up I was; I never had the guts to man up and go home to Duncan. Part of me feels like I don’t deserve a second chance at having a family, but…”

“Are you saying you want to adopt Hancock?”

“God no,” he laughed. “Creepy. I guess what I’m saying is…well…”

“It’s alright. You can tell me.” I stretched my arm around his shoulder, stroking his shoulder. 

“Well I guess I want to know what your plans for the future are before I give us another try.”

“Oh.” I took a long drag.

“If that freaks you out, trust me, I’m not gonna hold it against you. We’ve always been partners, and I’m just happy to have that part of you back. If you don’t want to be physically intimate, I’ll get over it if it means things can go back to the way they used to be. That’s all I’ve got left to hope for.”

“Just to clarify: are you asking if it’s possible that you and I can…can…uh…”

“I want to get married. I want kids. Nobody is ever going to replace Lucy or Duncan, but they made life worth living, and I’d be stupid not to shoot for that kind of happiness again. And I think you deserve the same. So yeah. I know that’s a big question. You don’t have to answer it tonight.”

I nodded. Wow. That _was_ a big question. What _did_ I want with MacCready? We hadn’t even been intimate since he’d returned, and now he was talking about the big picture? There was a time when I thought about getting more serious with him. I think it was back when Hancock told me he was in love with me. After all, if both of us had had families once before, then…

“Okay, so, just to clarify, again: you’re saying you can see a future with us being intimately involved with a family, right?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But after I left the Commonwealth, I realized that I was madly in love with you. So that’s why I’m throwing all this out there on the table. I came all the way back here; you have every right to know what my intentions are. So where this partnership goes is up to you. Just know that whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”

His hand grazed my arm again before he stood up, grabbed his coat, and saw himself out, leaving me to think things over in the lighthouse. It was a lot. My head was starting to ache because of it. How was I going to sift through everything? And what was best for MacCready? He was still healing after the loss of his son. I didn’t want to overwhelm him by asking for sex or pushing us in a direction he wasn’t ready to go in.

I extinguished my cigarette in the ash tray. Well, whatever was going to come, I was glad that he was back. And for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of safety. I closed my eyes, telling myself that I would put these thoughts on the back burner. No matter which road our partnership went down, the first stop on that road involved picking a goddamn quest out.


	31. Sparring Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang spices up breakfast!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor MacCready can't seem to catch a break, but he _can_ catch a cold. Maybe someday he will catch a break, but I'm not done writing misery.

I woke up to the sounds of crashing coming from my kitchen. At first I wondered if the insane storm outside had knocked something over, but the sounds were too deliberate, too regular. In fact, it sounded a lot like raiders breaking into my goddamn house. Uh-uh! Not today!

I scrambled out of bed in my boxers and snagged my musket leaning up against the wall, giving it two firm cranks before plunging down the stairs. The stairs met the far wall before turning and tapering off into the living room. I paused right there on the landing, and what I saw was not raiders.

MacCready threw a punch and Hancock ducked, following up with a swift kick to the merc’s shins. He toppled onto the floor, but that didn’t stop him from executing a roundhouse kick. Hancock took a hit to the thigh before catching MacCready’s other foot and jerking him across the floor, slamming his foot against MacCready’s chest and holding him down.

“Call it.”

“Fuck you, old man!” 

“Your funeral.” Hancock grabbed the kid by the back of his hair and dragged him across the floor kicking and grunting before tossing him onto the couch. MacCready’s shirt was ripped, pants unbuttoned. Wow. Must have been quite a sparring match.

The merc had a cold, hard glint in his eyes. He was panting. Seething. Suddenly, he reached up and snatched Hancock’s face, pulling their lips together and kissing with burning passion. 

WHOA. I. WHAT?

They kissed and kissed, tongues clashing, breaths heavy before Hancock grabbed MacCready’s face and slammed his head against the back of the couch. He then mounted his lap and began grinding, eliciting a heavy groan from the mercenary. Meanwhile, I took a quiet couple of steps back up the stairs, sitting down and watching from a break in the railing. They were blissfully unaware of my existence. 

“Looks like all this sparring has got you nice and hard, MacCready…” Hancock rolled his beautiful hips forward. I watched his shoulders bob with his sultry movements. He was like the tide, moving in and out, ebbing away at MacCready.

MacCready only put up with it for a few seconds before saying, “And it looks like you’ve dropped your guard!” He snatched Hancock by the throat. Suddenly, the mayor was on his back with MacCready’s knees in between his legs. Hancock actually gasped. Then, he let out a low rumble of a laugh. 

“Well well, look who’s on top.” His words came in ragged gasps, oxygen cut off almost entirely.

“You’re goddamn right. Now bend over before I make you.”

“So _make_ me, MacCready. _Earn me._”

God damn my dick was hard. What WAS this? Did MacCready seriously top now? And why was Hancock letting him? Either way, I freed myself from my underwear and went to work.

MacCready seized Hancock’s neck with one hand and dug his nails into the ghoul’s hips with the other. Hancock grunted before he was tossed onto his belly. His pants were being jerked off of his ass in an instant. It all happened so fast: Hancock’s pants on the floor, MacCready pulling himself out of his plaid pants, stroking his pulsating cock, accidentally sneezing – and Hancock saying ‘bless you’ which was like, stupid cute – spitting on his hand, lining himself up, and fucking the mayor.

I twisted my fist over my head. Mmm, fuck. I loved the way MacCready gripped the ghoul’s rugged sides, how he grunted and moaned with every thrust. I watched Hancock start to stroke himself off, too, quietly taking MacCready’s punishment. 

I wondered what would happen if I said something. Would I be allowed to join in? Who would be my top? MacCready? Or would he keep fucking Hancock while Hancock fucked me? Oh god I wanted Hancock to fuck me so bad right then…

I accidentally let out a small moan. They didn’t hear me, though. I just kept jerking off until precum started to pearl at my tip. I was getting close, and fast. So was MacCready by the sounds of it.

“Fuck I missed you Hancock!”

“Yeah? You miss the way I feel? The way I taste?”

“Ngh!” His thrusts became harder, more violent. 

“You miss swallowing my hot, irradiated cum?”

I did! Nate did! Nate, who was quietly starting to peak.

“I bet you’re gonna cum inside of me, aren’t you?” he teased through gasps and grunts. “Come on, unload inside of me, let it allll out, MacCready…”

“Y-yeah! Ah! Right there!” _Yeah, right there…_ “Oh god!” _Christ, my fucking cock…_ “I’m gonna cum!” _Oh god, me too, fuck I’m gonna-_

Cum surged out of me like a rocket, and before I could stop it, it went barreling over the railing of the stairs, headed right toward MacCready. “OOP!” I hollered, and reached my hand out to catch it, as if I _could._ Of course I didn’t, because that doesn’t make any goddamn sense, but it did manage to land right on MacCready’s face. My eyes shot wide open.

MacCready stopped thrusting into Hancock and involuntarily pulled out. “What the?” He wiped his face and both of them glanced over at the stairs.

“Shit shit shit!” I wailed. I could NOT stop cumming. I sat there like a doofus at the top of the stairs, ejaculating hands-free all over myself and my floor. Well there was no hiding it now.

Hancock stopped jerking himself off. “Wow. Ain’t that a sight.”

“Did you just?” MacCready looked at his sticky palm. “Nate, is this?”

_I’m sorry,_ I mouthed, another dribble of cum oozing down my cock. “Ahhh fuck…it won’t stop…”

MacCready glowered, pulled himself up off the couch, treaded the stairs, and slapped me right in the forehead with a handful of my own cum.

“Hey!” 

“That’s what you get you voyeuristic moron!” 

-

Two black eyes glanced up from the breakfast table. “So.” 

Two blue eyes followed. “So what?”

All four eyes looked to me now. I stopped chewing my eggs. “What? Why you looking at me?”

“Nothin’,” said Hancock. “Just kind of pleased.”

“Because I came on MacCready’s face?” The merc furrowed his brow and took a big bite of his eggs.

“Nah, although you’re really giving our little sniper here a run for his money. Didn’t expect you and me to have an _encounter_ on day one of us travelling together, but I’ve gotta say, I like where this is going.”

“So…” I pushed my food around on my plate. Stupid force of habit. “Are you saying you’re ready to give us another go, sexually I mean?”

“Maybe,” answered Hancock. “Feeling better about it than I thought I’d be. That’s all. Let’s just see where it goes, Sunshine.”

I smiled. “Alright.” At least he was calling me Sunshine again. 

“ACHOO!”

I jumped. That was loud, even over the thunderstorm. “Bless you,” said Hancock and I in unison. 

“Ah, shit,” moaned MacCready, pulling a handkerchief out of his pants pocket. He blew is nose and tucked it away again before resuming his breakfast. “Gotta say boss, you’ve made better eggs.”

“What’s wrong with my eggs?”

“Nothing,” answered Hancock in lieu of MacCready. “I keep tellin’ him he’s getting sick but he won’t listen. And now he can’t taste food.”

“Ugh. I’m not sick. It’s allergies,” he insisted. He was audibly congested.

“It’s October,” I said. “And it’s raining. And it’s the apocalypse. What do you think you’re allergic to, exactly?”

“I don’t know, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting sick right when we’re all getting back together. I’ll be fine, you just watch. Now where are we headed?”

“Nowhere in this rain.”

“Oh come on!” shouted MacCready, a huge smile on his face. “The gang’s back together! We’ve gotta go do something!”

“Agreed,” said Hancock, flipping his knife dexterously between his digits. “So what if it’s sprinkling a little? That’s never stopped us before.”

I laughed. “Sprinkling? It’s -”

I was interrupted by a huge crash of lightning that struck my front lawn. The entire sky lit up. A monstrous roar of thunder erupted right afterward. I pointed to the sky as if to say, _point and case._ To my chagrin, my partners looked at one another and shrugged. 

“So where we off to?” repeated Hancock.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” I pressed a couple buttons on my pipboy and pulled up my quest log. No more MILA devices to set up, thank god, but I still had like fifteen settlements that needed my help. Ehhhhhhh…nah. But wait. Was that a quest from Fred Allen? Didn’t he ask me to help him out, like, a _year_ ago? “Could do some work for Fred over at the Rexford. Says he wants some kind of weird canister from the HalluciGen building. Either of you know anything about the place?”

“Not much,” answered MacCready. “Last I heard it was overrun by Gunners, but that was before I even left the Commonwealth.”

“I still see’em going in and out from time to time,” added Hancock. “No one really touches the place. Guessin’ it’s dangerous. Sounds like fun to me.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Kill some Gunners, grab the chems, report back to Fred. How hard can it be?”


	32. Fun at HalluciGen!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, Hancock and MacCready trip baaaalllllsssssss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This vault-dweller is brought to you by HalluciGen, where noxious gases go to become more potent noxious gases over time! (Look, I don't know how science works, I just write trash.)

We arrived at HalluciGen soaking wet in the late afternoon. Curie used to badger me about getting an umbrella. Guess she was right, although the gale force winds may have carried the hypothetical umbrella away into the sky. MacCready slogged up the stairs at an arduous pace, dragging his heels the entire time.

“You alright?” asked Hancock over the rain.

MacCready clutched his rifle and awkwardly brought his elbow up to wipe his nose. “Ugh. Think I really am getting sick.”

“Are you up for this?” I asked. “We can head over to Goodneighbor instead.”

“Nah. We’re already here. Might as well grab the canister since it’s on the way.”

“Fair enough. Take it easy though, alright?”

“Will do, boss. Let’s just get inside. Can’t be worse in there than it is out here.”

Boy was he wrong. As soon as we opened the door, noxious gas filled our lungs. Each of us erupted into a fit of coughing, especially MacCready who sounded absolutely terrible. Hancock clutched his hat and slammed it over his face, saying,

“What the hell _is_ this stuff?”

“Oh, this can’t be good,” gasped MacCready in between hacking his lungs up. “Hope this stuff isn’t lethal.”

“Yeah,” I added, cupping my mouth, “this is almost on par with that monster shit Hancock took the time I beat his ass raw in Far Harbor.”

“I still got scars,” mused the ghoul, and gave me a sly nudge. His eyes shifted over the swirling, green fog. It weaved between every desk, doorway, nook and cranny. “When the hell’d it get so quiet? _This_ kind of quiet ain’t natural in my experience.”

“Stop, you’re freaking me out Hancock,” said MacCready. Poor kid. He sounded so…nasaly. 

Hancock moved forward. His footsteps echoed off of the metallic walls. There wasn’t a soul in sight, which didn’t bode well considering the longer I stood there, the more I was certain I smelled blood. Maybe it was just rust. Corrugated steel. But something told me I was right; something bad had happened there. 

“I thought you said Gunners had free run of the place?”

“They did,” answered MacCready. “Well, a year ago.”

“Yeah, well, a lot can happen in a year,” I whispered. Anything louder and it would have sounded like a yell. The whole place felt off. “Well, no sense in backing out now. Whaddya say we find that canister and get out of here?”

-

Everything got kind of fuzzy after that, but I remembered seeing corpses. The further and further along we traveled, the more there were. Some of them looked like they’d been there for months, and not a whole lot was left other than bones whose meat had long since been picked clean by the radroaches. Other bodies were fresher, although I wouldn’t call them “fresh” outright. They were old meat and sinew, green uniforms caked with death. The entire place smelled caustic, sweet, rotten. 

And then there were the chambers. Four or five – or maybe ten? I can’t remember – each of them some kind of chemical weapons test. There were people locked inside. Some of them were even alive. Well, at least their eyes were open. I thought maybe one of them was a ghost. They were so pale, eyes glossed over like a hazy, blue sky. Were they even real to begin with? 

My hand hovered over a red button. The ghost person was peering at me from the chamber below. A recording of a woman spouted neuro-scientific jibberish at me. Maybe I shouldn’t push it. Or maybe I should. Was the ghost person taunting me? _Push it!_ Or were they pleading for me not to? _Please, no!_ I couldn’t focus. One minute, I was walking with Hancock and MacCready and the next, I felt completely detached. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. Obviously it was the gas. Time to ground myself, snap back to reality, and check in on my partners. I opened my eyes and turned around.

“This is terrible,” said MacCready. I think he was crying. His palms were pressed against the glass.

“Pull it the fuck together, man,” snapped Hancock. He was angry, smoking a cigarette, and his hands would _not_ stop twitching. 

“Guys.”

They glanced over. 

“I think the gas is getting to us.”

“You think?” seethed Hancock. “Feel like I wanna punch someone in the throat.”

“Well don’t,” I said. “Look, we’re almost there. We just gotta find a way into the-”

-

“No, this isn’t the room. Who is that?”

There was somebody standing on the opposite side of the glass. (Wait, when did I end up down there at the test chamber?) They were trapped inside. Who were they? They were wearing Gunner clothes. Why, though? Oh, because they were a Gunner! Ha! Brilliant!

She was afraid, too. She was crying like MacCready was. And he had his hands pressed up against the glass again. “L-L-Lucy? Oh my god…Nate! We have to get her out of there!”

Hancock snatched MacCready by the back of his duster. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?! Are you stupid?!” He shook him. “That ain’t your wife! Now get your head on straight!”

“That’s Lucy! Look at her!” MacCready pointed at the glass and frowned. “Whoa. That’s not my wife…”

Hancock shook his head and let MacCready go. “Shit, man. I’m…I’m sorry…didn’t mean to grab you like that. Oh man…”

Oh man was right. Hancock’s face was wrong. And MacCready’s was wrong too. They just didn’t look like faces anymore. Nothing looked like anything. The hallways were all funny. So were the doors. And the floors. And the ceilings. Was I even standing up anymore? Which way was up? Or down, for that matter? Why were the walls ceilings; why were the ceilings floors; why were the floors walls?!

I staggered, back colliding with the floor. No, the door. Wait no, the wall. Yeah, the wall. “Whoa…I don’t…I don’t feel so good…”

“Sunshine.” Hancock touched me with all eight of his hands. “We gotta get outta here. We gotta get through that door in the -”

-

“Oh! This door! Ha ha ha! Of course! Hancock, you’re a genius!” I kissed his cheek. 

He was so smart. How did he even do that? How did he get us through the big, scary, locked door? And oh my god he felt good. _I_ felt good. So good. I mean the weird green chemical fog was all up in my lungs, but the weird green chemical fog being all up in my lungs made me wanna be all up inside of Hancock, and I was like, _wayyy_ okay with that. 

I was hot. Sweating. My clothes…I had to get them off right now, RIGHT NOW, or, ha ha ha, I was gonna be SOOO mad! Like! Maybe I’d fucking KILL someone! 

I started stripping. There. That was better. And fuck I was hard. So very, very hard. I started to touch my dick, and touch Hancock’s pretty face. I don’t know where MacCready was, but he wouldn’t mind if I had a quick go at my ghoulfriend. Would he? Nahhh. 

Hancock was already on the floor, ready and waiting for me. I laughed. Man, he sure was bottoming a lot these days. I laughed some more. And some more. Until finally, Hancock jerked me up off the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” 

I blinked. Wait. If Hancock was standing there clutching my collar, then who was…?

I looked at the ground. God. The guy must have been dead for weeks, maybe a month. His camouflage pants had been torn to shreds by varmints, and he was just ripe enough to make me wonder how the hell I hadn’t noticed him sooner.

My stomach wrenched itself up into my throat. “Oh god!” I flung my hand over my mouth. “Tell me I didn’t…”

“NO!” screamed Hancock. He let me go and balled his fists up. “I STEPPED IN BEFORE YOU COULD!”

“Why are you screaming?”

“I’M ANGRY!”

“Why?”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I FUCKING KNOW?!”

I looked back down at the corpse. “No no no no no…where the fuck are my pants? Oh my god where are my pants? I did not almost just…no, no no no…” I repeated.

“Stop,” mewled MacCready, stepping out from behind a corner. “Just make it stop. Make everything stop. I can’t anymore…” He was sobbing, melting onto the floor into a puddle of depression. “I can’t go on anymore, you guys…”

“YES YOU FUCKING CAN!” Hancock hoisted him up and slammed him against a wall like some kind of comic book character. “DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU ARE BRAVE! AND STRONG! AND RESILIENT!”

It was too much. The sensory overload. The cacophony of screaming and crying and blood and decay and my swimming vision and the way my skin felt like it was burning off the bones. I felt like throwing up. God, I was so sick. I just wanted to give in and… 

No. I had to pull it together. We had _one_ objective. Get in through that door. And it was already open. All I had to do was walk in, grab the canister, and –

-

I blinked. I was freezing. Was that a loincloth around my waist? And there was something in my arms. I was holding on to not one, but five HalluciGen brand canisters. “What the fuck?” I glanced up. Where was I? What just?

We were inside of a building. An office. Hancock was sitting in a chair in front of me, and MacCready was leaning against the desk smoking a cigarette. Some guy with a moustache and bowler hat sat opposite Hancock, fingers laced, fists on the desk. 

“So just go ahead and give me everything you own, and I’ll initiate you as a first level Pillar of the Community.”

“Sure, man,” said Hancock.

Wait. Waaaait. Something was wrong here. But what, exactly? Hmm. 

I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, maybe it was the aftereffects of the noxious chemicals talking, but there was something really off about the way Hancock was just buying into this guy, or the way MacCready had his hat on backwards, or how 50% of the walls were still ceilings, and vice versa. 

“Something’s not right,” I said.

“Hm?” Hancock glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“No, he’s right,” added MacCready. “I feel like maybe we _shouldn’t_ join this cult…”

“Cult?” laughed the moustachioid. “We aren’t a cult, my dear man. We’re…we’re pillars! Of the community! We strive to build a brighter future for anyone and everyone who-”

Hancock held up his hand. The ghoul had mad charisma, because the guy in the suit stopped talking. All eyes in the room were on Hancock. But he didn’t say anything. I think he was still high. The silence was dragging on. One minute, everything was loud, frenzied and overwhelming; now, the lack of noise was closing in. I felt like I was underwater. Unable to think or see or breathe. All I could focus on was the lack of air in my lungs accompanied by a foul burning sensation. I really, really needed to catch a breath. 

Something clattered to the floor. What was that? I looked at my hands. Oh. I dropped all the canisters. 

MacCready started cracking up. “Oh man, you are _hilarious,_ you know that? That’s why I wanna marry you!”

I laughed. And then I laughed some more. And MacCready and I laughed together. 

“Hey, fuck it! Let’s have babies! So many babies!”

“Yeah? Alright!” agreed MacCready.

Meanwhile, Hancock stared at his hand, turning it over and over. “Sometimes I forget I’m a ghoul. Shit’s wild, man.” He looked up at the man across the desk. “Do you ever get that? Do you ever just…forget?”

The guy looked like he was afraid for his life. “N…no…” He looked to MacCready, who was still cackling.

“Man, I don’t even remember lighting this cigarette!”

“I don’t remember you lighting it either!” I chimed in. “In fact, I don’t remember anything from the last hour!” I looked down at my Pipboy. Wait a second. I stopped laughing. “Hey, hold on…it’s…it’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah, so?” said MacCready, wiping a tear away.

“So we left on Sunday.” My eyes shot open. “Dude. What _happened?_”

“You know,” said the guy with the moustache, dropping the fake accent. He stood up from his desk. “Why don’t you three just go? Something tells me that if I keep trying to rob you, you’ll eat me alive.”

Hancock shrugged. “Wise move. This gas _is_ making me pretty hungry.”

-

“TAKE THEM!” I shoved the cans into Fred’s arms. He looked shocked that I’d even brought them. Or maybe he was shocked because I was wearing nothing but a Grognak the Barbarian© themed loincloth. Where did I even get that? Or the axe strapped to my back, for that matter? What kind of chemicals _were_ those?! 

The three of us spent the evening at the Old State House trying to piece together what had happened. We each remembered various bits and pieces others had forgotten or blocked out. Hancock described his experience as harboring rage unlike anything he had ever felt, burning inside of him like fire. When he talked about it, he looked afraid. He said that there were times when he really, genuinely wanted to hurt one of us…that the thought sickened him. 

MacCready, on the other hand, wanted to die. He felt despair deeper than he knew existed. He kept seeing the faces of Lucy and Duncan behind the glass, rounding corners and running away from him. Now his eyes were pink and puffy, dark circles lingering underneath. Poor kid…

We all agreed to put it behind us. It was a rough couple of days. We ended up trapped in that building for 24 hours, give or take, and god only knows what happened after we left. That we found a way out was a miracle in and of itself. Our stims were gone, our caps were gone, our food and water was gone, and none of us had any recollection of losing any of it. The caps Fred paid us didn’t even come close to recouping or losses. 

Hancock crashed at his place and did a lot of chems to try and forget. MacCready wasn’t feeling great and went to the VIP room to recover. And I went back to my usual haunt: the Rexford, to the same room where the three of us had split up a year ago. In hindsight, maybe I should have stayed with Hancock or MacCready, but I was exhausted, and the idea of getting a good night’s sleep was intoxicating.


	33. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate goes back to HalluciGen alone and MacCready gets pouty about it. Nate experiences an intense kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well back to the _grind,_ amirite?

Regardless of how things were falling back into place – MacCready being back, Hancock giving me another chance – that was still the worst sleep I’d gotten in months. In fact, it wasn’t even sleep. I just lied awake the whole night staring at the cracks in the ceiling, each of them branching off into a discombobulated mess kind of like my thoughts. A million things were running through my mind like a frenzied fever dream.

What ever happened to that Gunner? The one behind the glass? I remembered gawking at her, MacCready saying how he thought she was Lucy, and then…

Then what? I blacked out. Came to in another room. Was she still trapped inside of there? The thought didn’t sit well with me. Better to have put a bullet in her brain than let her suffer in there, eventually starving and wasting away.

And another thought: what happened to our stuff? Seriously! That was _all_ of our stuff! And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. My backpack was still there, only it was full of bizarre crap. For god’s sake, what was I thinking when I grabbed a Carlisle typewriter? Where did I even get that? Or the loincloth and axe, for that matter?

But what haunted me the most, what kept me awake until it was dawn, was what MacCready had said when we were high. How he wanted to marry me. Have babies. And how we just laughed and laughed about it like it was no big deal. Maybe he was kidding. Or maybe he didn’t even remember saying those things. But something told me he did.

Either way, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep unless I took action. Seriously, that woman in there? I mean, I knew she was a Gunner, but…

-

“The hell were you?” asked Hancock. 

“Whoa, is that our stuff?” added MacCready, congested as hell with balls of tissues shoved up his nose. The two were lounging around the Old State House, Hancock in his usual coat and MacCready in his pajamas. The kid was bundled up in at least three blankets. Honestly, it was pretty cute. Still, I was hesitant to answer their question honestly.

“Let’s just say I have my ways,” I said, trying to sound smug. 

“Wait…you didn’t go back to HalluciGen?” 

“Well…I mean, I didn’t _not_ go back…”

“Why the hell would you do something like that?!” bellowed MacCready. I felt guilty that I made him angry, but at the same time, he was adorable, screaming at me with his cheeks all pink and his eyes all puffy. D’aww. “Seriously! You could have gotten yourself killed! Guess that gas must have fried your brain because you’re an idiot to go back there without backup!”

“I’m sorry MacCready, I couldn’t leave that girl there.”

“What girl?” he questioned.

“The woman? The Gunner? The one who you thought was Lucy?”

“I…I don’t remember…but hey! It doesn’t matter! Why would you risk your ass for some Gunner?”

“Don’t you remember how awful it was in there? I couldn’t just leave her. Besides, I found most of our stuff, so-”

“MacCready’s right,” said Hancock, “you’re a goddamn fool to delve back into that building alone. But I get it.”

“You _do?_” sneered MacCready. “What’s there to get?”

“Wasn’t right to leave her like that,” explained Hancock. “If I’d had all my marbles back when we were there, I would have at least made it quick. Painless. Is that what you did?” he asked me.

“No. I unlocked the door and let her go.”

Hancock nodded. “Well alright.”

“No! Not alright! She’s a _Gunner!_ Are you two crazy?!”

I shook my head and turned my back. MacCready was all about self-preservation. I understood that. He cared about staying alive and those close to him, and the rest of the world was a danger. It was a smart outlook. It’s what kept him alive as a kid living in Little Lamplight all the way into adulthood in the Commonwealth. But sometimes, he really got on my nerves. 

How many times had he jumped on me for giving away a spare bottle of water to a thirsty settler? Or for going out of my way to help a settlement plant a crop or two? But this? This was a woman, Gunner or not, suffering the same way MacCready suffered just a day ago, forced to see horrible things in that gaseous fog. I was too tired to argue about it, so I scoffed and walked out the door.

“Where are you going?” asked MacCready, a hint of frustration still on his lips. 

I didn’t answer though. I just walked out of the State House and back to the Rexford so I could be alone and think. 

-

“Got time to talk?” asked Hancock, cracking the door open.

Damn it. I just _just_ started to fall asleep. I was hoping I could turn off my brain for a minute or two and catch a couple winks. I’d been back from HalluciGen since ten in the morning. Now it was close to noon. Why couldn’t I just have a quick power nap? “Guess so,” I groused. Hancock closed the door behind him. “Where’s MacCready?” I asked.

“Back at my place. Man, you’re looking rough. You ain’t gettin’ sick too are you?”

“No,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Just didn’t get any sleep.”

Hancock took a seat next to me on the bed. Its springs creaked. “Sorry to hear it.”

“Eh. What do you wanna talk about?”

“Anything. Just needed to get away from MacCready’s bitching. I get that he’s sick and all, but damn. If complaints were caps, he’d make us all rich.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Hey, he wasn’t wrong though. You really should have taken one of us along for the ride. He’s pretty upset knowing he could have lost you so soon after getting you back. Gotta say, I’m feeling the same way. The hell were you thinking?”

Guilt grabbed hold of my stomach and jerked it toward my butt. “I…shit. I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t.”

“It’s alright. Just reach out next time.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Cool.” Hancock leaned back, feet hanging off the bed and head resting against the wall. His tricorn hat fell over his forehead casting a long shadow across his face and chest. His shirt was a little wrinkled in front and had come untucked from his pants. I could see his pocked sides, creating the same sort of pleasant V-shape that MacCready’s had. Skinny boys. Mm. “Been a while since we sat down together, just the two of us,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s…I mean it’s nice, but…” The air was a little thick, I had to admit.

“Awkward. Yeah. Whaddya gonna do.”

My eyes remained fixed on his hips. I loved the way they sank into the hem of his pants like that. I wanted to reach out and touch him. But…no. It was too soon. I leaned back too, resting my back against the headboard. 

“So you and MacCready…”

“What about us?”

“After we split up, did you guys keep…?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know that. I figured they’d split, too. After all, wasn’t Hancock jealous of MacCready? 

“Well, we tried, anyway. Wasn’t really the same after that. I haven’t hooked up with MacCready since before he left the Commonwealth.”

“Until you screwed on my couch you mean.”

Hancock took his hat off and set it aside, glancing up with an inquisitive tilt of the head. “That a problem?”

“Problem?” I chuckled. “Hell no. Made things feel like they used to. Makes me think things can go back to the way they were.”

“Well, nothing ever goes back to the way it was. MacCready ain’t gonna get his son back, and I fell out of love with you a long time ago.” 

I felt my insides dip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think that can change?”

“What? Me loving you again? Because hey, I still respect you, but-”

“Oh shut up.” I wrinkled my nose. “Respect isn’t gonna fill the hole in my life, Hancock, and you know it.”

“You got a hole that needs filling?”

One by one, the wrinkles smoothed themselves out. They were replaced by new wrinkles, this time at the corners of my eyes and lips. I smiled. “Maybe.”

“Well maybe I can help with that. Maybe…” He paused. Hancock scratched his chin, then took out his knife and began flipping it in between his fingers. He was thinking. Old force of habit. Finally, he let the blade stagnate between his index and middle fingers. “Man, I wanna love you again.”

“But you don’t?”

He looked away. _Hancock_, Mr. In-Your-Face, Tell-It-Like-It-Is, actually looked _away_ from somebody for a change. 

“No.”

Well, there went my stomach again. “Why? I mean, if you don’t you don’t but-”

“I want to, but it still hurts.” He tucked his knife away and sighed.

“I really did hurt you…” I mused, leaning forward and grazing his shoulder with my palm. I half expected him to jerk away from me, but he didn’t. He just sat there and watched the door. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that sad before. I scooted myself closer and pulled him into a tight embrace, slipping my hands under his arms. “I’m sorry, John.”

“Nate…”

“Just let me be sorry.” Before I could even begin to understand what I was doing or why I was doing it, I pressed a soft kiss upon his chin. Hancock closed his black eyes and sighed. It was this deep, rasp of a sigh that continued as my lips found their way to his neck. 

That was the most intimate we had ever been. We’d fucked countless times. Jerked each other off. Sucked each other’s dicks. But we never really _kissed._ Well, sloppy, passionate kisses sometimes, but not like this. Now, our lips were locking, sliding open and allowing our tongues to explore one another.

Seconds dragged on until they became minutes. We ended up tangled in each other’s arms still kissing as though time itself ceased to exist, until finally he ended up on top of me. We were still making out with his legs at my sides, knees wrenched up around my chest, bent over, tongue buried inside of my hot mouth. 

God I was hard. His skinny, little hips felt amazing. And I missed him so goddamn much. The prospect of doing everything we used to – getting my cock sucked until I was begging; grinding on him until I couldn’t stand it a second longer; letting him shove his dick inside of me until I came all over myself – was getting me visibly hard. I was sure he could feel me. I was internally screaming to be let free from my pants. 

Every little movement made my cock stir, but he was taking his sweet time with that kiss of his. That hard, sweet kiss. I had _never_ shared any moment like it. Not even with MacCready. And as much as it pains me to say, not even with my husband, whom I loved dearly. 

His legs moved; he was getting more comfortable. It made me twitch in my pants. His ass shifted; repositioning himself for better access to my lips. My balls hurt. Oh man. I was really starting to get needy. And he wasn’t even _doing_ anything yet. But something about this moment of vulnerability and intense passion just…

Ohhh, fuck, those hips. He was barely moving them and yet I was getting so built up I could hardly stand it. I was struggling. Aching. Dying to break free from my pants. But I couldn’t say anything because his kiss was so deep and beautiful that I couldn’t bear to break it. I just closed my eyes and tilted my head back and took it. The twist of his tongue against mine, his hard chest baring down, his weight, the strain against my own pants, the way his subtle motions pulled at my groin…

I moaned into the kiss, a long, deep moan that came with and abrupt shudder. My lips parted so wide that I broke the kiss. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. My head reeled back, colliding with the pillow. I was gonna…

_Oh, god!_

“You alright, Sunshine?” 

I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a ragged gasp. “Shit!”

“Hey…” Hancock reached down and brushed a strand of my long, brown hair out of my face. “What’s the matter?”

My chest heaved up and down, and it took every ounce of dignity and self-control I had not to let my hips buck. Finally, I caught my breath. “N-nothing. Backache. Guess I pulled something yesterday. That was really nice, Hancock.” I think I was sweating.

“It was. Making me think I’m wrong, you know…”

“About?”

“About not being in love with you.” He swallowed.

“Think about it,” I said. “We’re in no rush. Hey, uh, this was actually a little intense for me. Do you mind if I have a little space?”

“Sure,” he answered, and pulled himself off of me, grabbing his hat. “Ain’t nothin’ like French-kissing a ghoul, right?”

I chuckled, wiping my brow on my sleeve.

“Well, I’d better go check on MacCready anyway. We should probably give him a day or two to recover before heading back out.”

“For sure.”

“Cool. Catch you later, Sunshine.” The ghoul gave me a sultry wink before leaving the room and closing the door. As soon as he was gone, I took a deep, gasping breath. 

“SHIT!” I exclaimed. I undid my pants, stretched open my boxers by the elastic, and peeked in my drawers. Cum. _Everywhere._

Best.

Kiss.

EVER.

“God damn, Hancock. I missed you.”


	34. Cuppa Joe (Thanksgiving Special!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate scours the Commonwealth for a single cup of fresh coffee. And almost commits murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a special Thanksgiving chapter! Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Thank you for reading this terrible, smutty fanfiction. I enjoy writing it almost as much as Nate enjoys old-world coffee.
> 
> (Special shout-out to my partner for coming up with this _ridiculous_ plot.)

It didn’t take much for MacCready to forgive me. Daisy was selling some old-world, pre-packaged hot chocolate mix. The perfect thing to make for somebody with a cold on a rainy day. Two days of blankets and cocoa and massages and pampering sure did the trick. Aside from a little congestion, MacCready was his usual, lively self in no time. 

The next three weeks were spent out and about, doing odd jobs for the Minutemen, the Railroad, and our friends. Help a settlement get rid of some raiders; take a group of synths from point A to point B; find Piper a Carlisle typewriter (hey, wait, I _had_ one of those!) But after setting up my good buddy Pipes with that typewriter, the quality in quests sort of…diminished. 

At about five in the morning, I woke up outside of Vault 81. My companions were already up, including Deacon and Curie; Deacon, who had tagged along for our previous synth-oriented mission. (And the last one. And the one before that.) And Curie, who had decided to catch a breath of fresh air outside of the vault where she had been practicing her science. I didn’t have the heart to turn her away. It was _really_ hard for any of us to explore our mutual ‘interests’ with Deacon and Curie around, and we were all a little on edge. 

Everyone sat around the fire pit. Our piping, hot carafe was fresh off the fire, and MacCready was pouring coffee into an assortment of tins and cracked, old cups. Oh. The seats were all taken, including the stupid log. Great. I huffed and sat in the dirt. MacCready handed me the cup – the one with the most cracks, of course – and I instantly spilled coffee onto my jeans. “Ugh!”

“Eh, you’re fine,” said MacCready.

That pissed me off. I mean, I was fine, but he could have at least felt sorry for me or something. I shot daggers at him but he was busy reading a comic book. Hancock was whittling away at an old piece of wood, Curie was organizing the items in her travelling pack, and Deacon was humming the same goddamn showtune he’d been humming for the last three days.

What was his deal? Why was he obsessed with showtunes? Seriously. What was so great about Gene Kelly that he had to keep singing about rain? It wasn’t even raining! Why sing in rain that doesn’t exist?!

Honestly, it wouldn’t have bothered me if I could have came in the last, oh, three weeks? I was as backed up as a clogged vacuum cleaner. Ugh. No. I wasn’t going to have a bad day because I couldn’t beat my meat or get laid. There were things to do, and MacCready and Hancock (and even Deacon and Curie) and I were going to have fun doing them. That’s what friends do. They have fun together.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like shit. Okay, fine. Coffee was stale nowadays. I got that. Stale coffee or no coffee. But what pissed me off wasn’t that it was the same, trashy coffee as always, it was the way it SCALDED THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF MY TONGUE.

“Sweetheart?” 

MacCready glanced up. “Yeah?”

“Where did you get this coffee?”

“Uh…”

“In a dumpster?”

“Huh?”

“I’m asking you nicely. Did you. Find this coffee. In. A. Dumpster.”

“No…? Wh-?”

“BECAUSE IT’S CRAPPY COFFEE ROBERT!” I flung my cup. It didn’t even have the dignity to shatter. It just bounced off of the stupid, Vault-Tec trailer next to the fire pit. And even better! It ricocheted and hit Curie, sweet, little Curie, right in the back of the head.

“My ‘ead!” she wailed.

“Ah! Sorry!”

I knelt down and examined Curie, trying to quell my fury. She assured me she was alright, but god I felt terrible. And to make matters worse, MacCready was pissed.

“For your information, asshole, I found it _next_ to a dumpster, so relax before you give one of us a concussion! And hey, what gives, anyway?!”

I need to cum? And I can’t cum? Duh?

“Nothing.” I gritted my teeth. 

“Bad morning, huh?” asked Deacon. “You know what I do when I’m having a bad morning? Masturbate.”

OOOOHHHH I SWEAR TO-

“Sorry, Curie,” added Deacon, as though his words would sully her virgin ears.

“Oh, do not apologize, Monsieur Deacon. The act of orgasming is a scientifically effective way to reduce or eliminate stress. The act itself releases oxytocin and endorphins, which-”

I really wished I hadn’t ruined my coffee. I sure as shit needed it if I was going to sit there and listen to this. Man. We really needed a more engaging quest. I swear, if I had to move one more synth or find that stupid cat from Vault 81 again I was going to lose it. I sat away from the group amidst the jagged tree line and watched the morning sky. Swirls of dark blue and pink erupted past the cityscape. I took a deep breath. MacCready was right. I was okay. Just needed to get a grip.

I opened up my Pipboy. There _had_ to be at least _one_ quest that didn’t suck massive piles of fun-sized dicks. In order to alleviate stress, I marked a few quests as non-priority: anything having to do with settlements, synths, or Tom’s stupid MILA devices. Bam. There went half my quests. Easy. But wait…what was that?

“Coffee?”

Curie was still going on and on about the benefits of orgasms. She was in the middle of explaining her scientific data (data that she had recorded after acquiring her female body…first hand…ugh) when she stopped and said, “Monsieur Nate, did you say something?”

“Coffee. I have a quest…to pick up _real_ coffee.”

“What do you mean ‘real’ coffee?” huffed MacCready. “What’s wrong with the coffee I make?”

I stood up and looked over the group. Suddenly, I laughed. Like, tears-in-my eyes level laughter. Glances were exchanged. Was today the day that Nate lost his mind? 

“Oh, MacCready, baby…that is NOT real coffee. This?” I gestured to the now-empty tin. “This is trash.”

“This roast isn’t so bad,” defended Deacon. “It’s no Slocum’s Joe French roast, but it beats the heck out of that General Atomics stuff over at the Galleria.”

“Well that’s just because radroaches get into the grounds,” said Hancock, to which Curie replied,

“Mon dieu!” 

“No. Guys. You don’t understand.” I began to pace, gesturing with my hands. “Before the bombs fell, coffee was fresh. Coffee was _good._ No stale grounds, scavenged from the garbage bin behind a supermutant-infested Drumlin Diner. No moldy beans, aging in the basement of a Red Rocket. No. Coffee was an _experience._” 

Everybody was looking at me like I was insane. Except Deacon. He had a big, wide grin on his face. 

“Let me paint a picture for you. The day is October twenty-third, year 2077. I’m sitting in my kitchen having breakfast. _Grognak the Barbarian and the Jungle of the Bat Babies_ is sitting on my kitchen counter. My husband is on the couch. I can hear the idle chatter of the television set, Codsworth buzzing down the hallway as he says, ‘Master Nate,’” I put on my best British accent, “’young Shaun requires your paternal affection.’ ‘Okay buddy,’ I say. I take my cup and walk down the hallway into my son’s room. I open the door, and as I stare at Shaun, I realize something: there’s only one thing in this entire world that matters. And do you know what that thing is?”

Silence. Then Curie.

“Your son?”

“A GOOD CUP OF MOTHERFUCKING COFFEE!” The crowd shrank back like I had blown a leafblower into their faces. “And I’m looking at my quest log, and lo and behold, this comes up! ‘Find the Container of Collector’s Edition 2075 Perfectly Preserved Presidential Roast in Vault 404.’”

“You sure your Pipboy’s giving you the right info? Sounds like an error to me,” said Hancock.

“Maybe,” I said with a smile on my face that was only there to mask the rage I felt toward garbage coffee. “But if there’s even the slightest possibility of there being a can of preserved coffee in this god-forsaken wasteland, then I say we find it. Besides, look at the bounty on this bad boy.” I tilted the screen so that MacCready could see, because I knew he’d be impressed. And I was right. His eyes shot wide open.

“Holy sh…holy crap!” he corrected like he used to, a habit that would break through every once and a while. “Are you sure that’s _not_ an error?! That’s…that’s…”

Deacon leaned over with a hand on MacCready’s shoulder and whistled. “Hooo boy. Yeah. No way this is a setup.”

“You think it is?” I asked, and turned off my screen.

“Come on, pal. That many caps and the Railroad could build an entire synth refuge, and we’d _still_ have enough caps to split five ways.”

“But surely,” argued Curie, “if this vault does exist, perhaps there are other valuable items worth salvaging. There may be other historical artifacts that can be saved and put on display at the museum for all of the little children to learn about!” she ended on a very singsong note.

“Name one museum in the Commonwealth,” chided MacCready.

“The Museum of Freedom, the Treasures of Jamaica Plains, the Pickman Gallery, the-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez. I dunno, boss. This almost sounds too good to be true.”

“True,” said Deacon. “But then again, collectors will pay insane amounts of caps sometimes. Remember Moe Cronin and his baseball ‘memorabilia?’” He made lively air-quotes at me.

I snickered. “Yeah. A moldy glove, a waterlogged card, and a ball whose signatures were probably all forged.”

“Deacon’s got a point,” added Hancock. “Kent paid you pretty well for all that Silver Shroud stuff. All it takes it one whack job whose passion is coffee to put some mercenary up to a job like this, provided they’ve got the caps.”

“I’m not just some mercenary.”

“’Course not, ‘course not…” said Hancock. Real convincing, Mr. Mayor. “Anyway, this many caps, and you know the place has gotta be dangerous. But what’s a little danger when you’ve got all of us at your side?”

-

Vault 40 – the extra four being a typo on my end – did end up existing. It took us a little over a week to find it. That week was filled with all kinds of drama; me and MacCready sneaking off to kiss, Hancock and MacCready sneaking off to bone down…well, mostly it was just me and Hancock passing MacCready around like a football. Once Deacon started catching on, we went back to pretending we weren’t all into kinky threesomes.

Anyway, the vault was in a rather interesting place, and we wouldn’t have found it if Curie hadn’t translated some old, Chinese text on a terminal off the coast of Nahant. In fact, we ended up having to go back to my place and grab _The Mariner_ just to get out there. The vault was on some rocky island that was so nondescript that we almost didn’t see it regardless of where the map led us. 

All that was left on the surface of the rocks was one old, Vault-Tec trailer that had been eaten away by two hundred years of salty sea spray and irradiated brine. I crawled inside and found the big, red button that opened the mechanical latch to the vault. It opened like the lid on a rusted can, sea birds taking flight from the rocks and fluttering into the skies. 

We took the lift down and were immediately hit with a foul, nautical stench. Good god. It was like Poseidon farted into a jar, saved it for two hundred years, and opened it in my face.

“That smells absolutely _terrible!_” MacCready gagged. Maybe I should have put him up to some other quest instead of taking him on the boat out into the middle of the ocean. He would have insisted he come anyway, though. 

“Wonder what fun-filled activities Vault-Tec put these folks up to?” said Deacon. We found out soon enough.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” agreed Hancock.

The vault had been divided into two halves. The first half was Americana at its core. The menu in the kitchen was comprised of things like burgers, hot dogs, and cherry pie; the whole thing looked like a diner. Decorations of motorcycles and Nuka Cola lined the walls. There was even a rec room that read _Come Down to the Hop!_ in neon letters that now sparked and flickered. I couldn’t believe there was still power. 

The other half of the vault was painted red with militaristic art, and the food menu in their kitchen looked more like military rations than actual food. They had access to a couple of robots, too, not the Mr. Handys like the first side of the vault had, but assaultrons and Mr. Gutsys. 

I understood what was happening. Americans versus the Reds. Except there were no “Reds.” Everybody in the vault was from Boston, conditioned to believe whatever Vault Tec wanted. Whole damn company was off their rocker.

Obviously, each side of the vaults were set to open at a specific time and date. Maybe a hundred years after the war? Who knew? Either way, Vault Tec was eager to see whether or not these socially deprived vault-dwellers could look past their cultural bias to try and interact with one another in a conducive manner. Judging by all of the skeletons, weapons and robot parts on the ground, it was pretty safe to say they did not.

The vault was a wreck. Water leaks. Electrical outages. Sparks flying over the water that nearly electrocuted Deacon. Jesus. There wasn’t preserved _anything_ down there, let alone coffee. I was about to give up when suddenly, I heard Hancock’s voice call out from around the corner.

“Jackpot.” 

The door slid open, and what was inside was amazing. Perfectly preserved _everything!_ Plates, cups, dishes; food and drinks; cigarettes and booze. But most importantly…__

_ _“Coffee!” I picked up the container and hugged her. She. Was. _Beautiful._ Not too big, but enough beans to brew at least few pots. The image on the front read “2075 Presidential Roast.” Between the American flag, the screeching bald eagle, and the guys in power armor toasting their mugs, the artwork alone made the whole trip worth it. “We got it. Now let’s get out of here and brew a _real_ pot of coffee for a change! Ha! Prepare to be amazed, MacCready!”_ _

_ _“What? No way!” His brows furrowed and little wrinkles appeared on the bridge of his nose. “We’re selling this! No way we’re passing up on the caps!”_ _

_ _“Why not both? Brew a pot and sell the rest?”_ _

_ _“Because it’s sealed, dummy!” He snatched the container from me and held it up to the light, the only light in the joint that wasn’t flickering. “See? It’s like your Pipboy said: _perfectly_ preserved!”_ _

_ _“Oh, but what about science!” wailed Curie. “Surely, this preservation method must be explored! It may be possible to analyze the beans and apply its method to other food all across the Commonwealth.”_ _

_ _“You’re gonna look at beans through a microscope?” chuckled Hancock. _ _

_ _“I say we make up a story about the beans,” said Deacon. “I mean, if they’re _this_ good, why not embellish? At the very least, you can brew a pot or two and sell the rest for way more than they’re actually worth. That way you can still have a drink and make up your losses.”_ _

_ _“No one’s gonna buy that crock of shit!” shrieked MacCready. “Once it’s opened, it’s gonna lose its value!”_ _

_ _We argued like this all the way back out to the boat. And then to Kingsport. And then in my living room. We argued over dinner. And over breakfast. And well into the next day. We were divided: Deacon and I wanted to get at least one or two pots out of it. Curie wanted it for science. MacCready wanted it for caps. Hancock really didn’t care, but he could see the benefit of all three options. Either way, no consensus was made. _ _

_ _I turned on Radio Freedom over lunch only to discover Coastal Cottage was being attacked by ferals. It wasn’t too far away, so the gang and I made for the coast. The ferals were dispatched easily enough, and there was even a happy-go-lucky Preston Garvey waiting for us there. Guess he got the signal too. Since we were all right there with the beans, we figured it couldn’t hurt to ask Preston’s opinion on the matter. His answer shocked me, because it was the first time he had ever, _ever_ agreed with my mercenary friend._ _

_ _“You’d be crazy not to sell it!”_ _

_ _“YES!” MacCready clapped his hands together, made a fist, and jerked his elbow in an ‘I won’ sort of motion._ _

_ _“Whatever,” I snorted. “We’re two for two. Me and Deacon versus you two morons.”_ _

_ _“Uh, excuse me?” said Curie. “I believe science is still a valid option, yes?”_ _

_ _“Yes, science is valid,” I agreed, “but so is indulging every now and again. You guys weren’t around before the war. You don’t _understand_ fine coffee.”_ _

_ _“I _understand_ that this many caps could help out a lotta people in need,” said Preston, which was a fair point. But…coffee!_ _

_ _This went on for a week. **An entire week.** Eventually, we all agreed to hold off on making a decision. The Minutemen and the Railroad weren’t struggling; they didn’t NEED caps right this second, kind of like how I didn’t NEED coffee either. So it stayed in my backpack for the time being. That is until one, fateful day in the Boston Commons when…_ _

_ _“Skinny?! Skinny Malone?!”_ _

_ _“Who the hell are you?!” he wailed. Five of his best guys were shot dead on the cold concrete. But hey, that’s what you get when you mess with a guy who’s forced to drink shitty ass dumpster coffee on the reg. MacCready and Hancock stood at my sides, barrels smoking._ _

_ _“I’m Nate.”_ _

_ _“Who the fuck is Nate?”_ _

_ _“Me! We’ve met before!”_ _

_ _“We have?”_ _

_ _“In Vault 114? Nick Valentine was there? I convinced you to leave Darla?”_ _

_ _“Oh shit, that was you? Ha! You grow one hell of a beard, kid.”_ _

_ _“I…oh. Thanks.” I smiled. That was a nice compliment. Hey no wait, this guy was my enemy! “Why the hell’d you attack us?!”_ _

_ _“You got what I want. Now hand it over. That thing is worth more caps than your life _and_ my life combined.”_ _

_ _“What are you talking about?”_ _

_ _“Don’t play stupid! Gimme the coffee!”_ _

_ _I laughed. “I’m not giving you a single bean.”_ _

_ _Skinny pointed his pistol right at my face. He was met in turn with the barrel of a sniper rifle and a shotgun extended in his direction._ _

_ _“Wrong move,” said Hancock._ _

_ _“Seriously. Three versus one? Come on, you overdressed moron.” MacCready laughed._ _

_ _Skinny must have really wanted that coffee, because his gun stayed aimed at my face for far too long considering he was obviously outnumbered. “God _damn_ it!” he cried. “Fine! You win! But don’t think I won’t find out who you sold it to! Mark my words, kid! Skinny Malone will be back, and someone’s getting their just due!”_ _

_ _Skinny started to waddle back into the Commons, presumably back to his vault. “Wait,” I said. He paused._ _

_ _“What? I ain’t gonna shoot you anymore, so what do you want?”_ _

_ _I shot him a sheepish look. “Did…did you mean what you said? About the beard?”_ _

_ _A sharp pain erupted in my side. “Oh come on!” hissed MacCready, retracting his elbow._ _

_ _-_ _

_ _Thanksgiving dinner, 2289, Jack Cabot’s house. _ _

_ _It was nice of Jack to host us. There were a lot of us, after all. There were the Cabots of course, Jack and Emogene and Wilhelmina and Deegan, plus the rest of us: me; my Goodneighbor friends, Hancock and his right-hand, Fahrenheit; my Railroad contacts, Deacon, Desdemona, Carrington, Tinker Tom, and Glory; my Diamond City cohorts, Piper and her sister Nat, as well as Nick Valentine; and finally the others, Preston and Curie and Cait. _ _

_ _We sat at a long, long table. Chairs had to be pulled up from the basement. We were all eating in uncomfortable silence after a heated argument. Now things were awkward. But I couldn’t just keep sitting there like that. What were friends supposed to be if not people to talk to? To get advice from? _ _

_ _“Oh no,” said MacCready as I reached for my backpack under the table. “Not again, boss…”_ _

_ _I slammed the tin on the table. “We aren’t leaving until this is settled. Deegan, lock the doors.”_ _

_ _“I’m not doing that,” said the surly ghoul, taking a bite of his Instamash and gravy._ _

_ _The next thirty minutes of my life were some of the most intense I had ever experienced. There was screaming, crying, cursing, even an interpretive dance which I really don’t want to get into, but I’ve gotta say, Deacon’s got the moves. Finally, people were divided into four corners of the house, minus Wilhelmina and Emogene who decided they were done with this bullshit and retreated to their rooms upstairs._ _

_ _In the first corner was Curie, Jack, Carrington, and Tinker Tom: ‘The Science Corner.’ They wanted the beans for, well, science. To learn about their properties. Whether it was Curie wanting to discover their preservation properties and put the can on display at the museum, or Tom’s insistence that the beans were put there by the Institute, each of them had their reasons for wanting to keep them safe, vowing to divvy them up between themselves and study them._ _

_ _The second corner consisted of MacCready, Cait, Preston, and Desdemona: ‘The Caps Corner.’ Obviously they thought selling the beans was the best idea. MacCready and Cait were more interested in profiting, but Preston thought that selling the beans could really help out the Minutemen. Same with Dez and the Railroad._ _

_ _The third corner was home to myself as well as Deacon and Glory (who actually agreed on something for once) and Fahrenheit. This was ‘The Drink-It’ corner. You only live once. Coffee is worth tasting if it’s fresh. That sort of outlook._ _

_ _And finally, there was the fourth corner: Edward Deegan, Nick Valentine, Piper, and Mayor Hancock, the ‘This Is Stupid I Want To Take Some Leftovers And Go Home And Go To Bed’ corner. They were more interested in…well, you know._ _

_ _We were four for four for four for four._ _

_ _“This is ridiculous!” shouted MacCready, still gnawing on a honey-glazed brahmin rib. “What’s the point of doing these jobs if you don’t intend to profit?!”_ _

_ _“Define profit,” argued Deacon. “One may profit from caps, or comic books, or…Blamco Mac and Cheese. Or hey, coffee!”_ _

_ _“Profit meanin’ caps!” insisted Cait. “Ugh. You can buy all that stuff _with_ caps, genius.”_ _

_ _“Hey, shouldn’t you be over here?” asked Fahrenheit, eyeing Mayor Hancock. “Caffeine’s a drug, right? Figured you’d wanna try it.”_ _

_ _“Can I slam it into my veins? Snort it? Light it up with a spoon and melt it down? Roll it into a joint and smoke it?”_ _

_ _“That is not advisable,” said Curie._ _

_ _“Then no. Not interested. Decide something already.”_ _

_ _“If Skinny Malone was after you, I’d decide sooner rather than later,” warned Nick. “Selling it just means he’s gonna go after your buyer; drinking it might piss him off; and studying it puts every doctor and scientist overseeing it at risk. Is a cup of joe really worth risking people’s lives over?”_ _

_ _“YES!” I demanded. “The entire point of this was to drink the coffee! There is no good coffee out there anymore! This might be our only chance to ever-”_ _

_ _“Hey, where’s Nat?! Where is my sister?!” shrieked Piper._ _

_ _We all stopped, eyes darting around. Sixteen people scattered, looking for the vivacious twelve-year-old in every nook and cranny. Behind furniture, in the fridge, everywhere. Piper was frantic, going as far as to open the front door and check outside, hoping her sister hadn’t wandered off into the dangers of Boston. Meanwhile, I threw open the first door I saw: the bathroom. And what I saw still haunts me to this very day._ _

_ _Nat was standing over the toilet, pouring the beans into the bowl. I could have sworn I’d taken jet, because everything was happening in slow motion. One bean falling into the bowl. _Plap._ Another bean. _Plonk.__ _

_ _“No…”_ _

_ _Three beans. Four beans. Dozens and dozens of beans. Each of them making splashes that became louder and louder until the sounds of wet beans screamed in my ears. It was all I could hear. All I could understand._ _

_ _“My…my beans…”_ _

_ _She reached for the flusher._ _

_ _“Nat wait!”_ _

_ _“Why?” she shrugged. “It’s just some stupid beans.”_ _

_ _“Nat, listen to yourself. Listen to what you’re saying. Are you really going to throw away everything I’ve ever worked for? Everything I’ve ever dreamed about? My entire life’s purpose?”_ _

_ _“Uh…your life’s purpose is beans?”_ _

_ _“Yes, Natalie.”_ _

_ _“It’s Nat.”_ _

_ _“Yes Nat,” I whispered. “Please.”_ _

_ _She gave me a sympathetic look. Whew. There it was. That connection I needed. I still had time to fish the beans out, dry them, head into Jack’s kitchen and brew up a steeping, hot pot of-_ _

_ _ _FLUSSSHHHHHHH!_ _ _

_ _“NAT! OH MY GOD!”_ _

_ _“If your life’s purpose is beans, then consider this a favor.” She dusted off her hands and approached me. “You need a new hobby, mister.” Nat walked around me without a care in the world. And me? I felt…_ _

_ _Anger. Rage. Murder. In my chest. In my stomach. Deep, deep in the pit of my stomach. It was hot and white and loud and I was going to explode. Oh my god. I was going to kill Nat Wright. I was going to kill a child, and…and…and shove HER down the toilet! And get arrested! And go to jail! For murder! Murder of a child! A no good, bean-hating child!_ _

_ _“Oh, sorry Blue,” said Piper, placing a hand gently on my shoulder._ _

_ _“AH. I. AHP. RR.”_ _

_ _“Blue?”_ _

_ _“MURDER.”_ _

_ _“Uh huh. You okay?”_ _

_ _“THE BEANS.”_ _

_ _“Yeah?”_ _

_ _“BLOOD.”_ _

_ _“Let’s go Piper!” sang Nat. The front door opened. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!”_ _


	35. Jet-Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, MacCready and Hancock get some well-earned *rest after a month of travelling in the Commonwealth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*penis_

Did I embellish when it came to the whole coffee thing? Probably. But there was a part of me that was genuinely upset. At the very least, we could have indeed sold it and built a lot of houses for displaced synths or settlers. And, you know, I could have had a _real_ cup of coffee, so there was that. But it was over. I was right back to drinking stale coffee brewed over random campfires scattered throughout the Commonwealth.

After Thanksgiving, it was just me, Hancock and MacCready again. By the time we got back to my house at Kingsport, our packs were full of weapons, chems, caps, and ‘useless crap,’ as MacCready called it. But hey, when you needed copper and gears, you needed copper and gears, right?

It had been a month since I’d gotten laid. Most of the time, Deacon was around, and then Curie too. Then there were all of these in-between jobs that aren’t even worth elaborating on. Aside from jerking off here and there, I was insanely deprived of human touch. Now, being around my two partners was more than I could handle. Thank god we were back home. I fully intended to hit up one or both of them for a little action, but as soon as I walked through the door, I realized how exhausted I was. 

“Wanna go do jet on the beach? Maybe relax a little?”

“Eh, sure Hancock,” I answered. And so the three of us headed down to the beach as intended. It was early evening, and the sky was a flurry of orange and pink. It was gorgeous. There wasn’t even any distant gunfire. Everything was still and silent, save for the crashing waves and chittering birds.

Hancock sat down, unfurled his coat, and let a flurry of chems spill onto the sand like Halloween candy. He grinned and picked through them, sorting them by color. 

“Weirdo,” said MacCready, and took a seat in between me and the ghoul. 

MacCready and I weren’t usually one for recreational chems. My vice was liquor, and I drank fewer and farther between these days. Still, MacCready reached over and plucked a couple inhalers of jet from the bunch, taking one for himself and passing one on to me.

We counted down to three, inhaled, and watched the colors of the sky melt into a beautiful, impressionist painting. We spent the next few minutes lying on our backs. Orange blended into red, and red into pink, and pink into white, then, all of the colors fused together and ran down the sky like an oily puddle in the rain.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Oh man,” chuckled MacCready. “It’s been a while since I did jet. This is wiiild. Love that fuchsia.”

“Think you’re colorblind, kiddo,” said the mayor. “That’s black.”

I sat up. “Hancock. That’s your hat. Your hat is over your eyes.”

He plucked it off of his face. “Huh. How bout that.”

“You crossfaded?”

“May or may not have done a couple other chems beforehand, yeah.” 

I shook my head and smiled, lying back down. We all chatted and relaxed for a while, a nice change of pace from being out there on the road. Whenever I got home from adventuring, my feet and back were killing me. I would head right for my medicine cabinet and pop some aspirin. But today, I felt so, so…

“-good.”

I turned my head to face MacCready. “Did you say something?”

“I said I don’t feel so good…”

I sat back up. “What’s up?”

“I dunno…” he answered. “I feel like I’m burning up or something. Am I hot?” There was a pained expression on his face. His eyes were glazed and drifting, a line of sweat on his forehead. I pressed my palm against it. 

“Oof. Yeah. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Me and Hancock stood up. The ghoul quickly shoved his chems back in his pockets before we each offered MacCready a hand. He staggered as soon as he was on his feet. Hancock and I caught him, wrapping our arms around him before he fell over. 

“Whoa, you good man?” asked Hancock. 

“N-n-no…I don’t think I am…everything is spinning…”

“Come on, let’s get him inside,” I said. “It’s dark out anyway.” Huh. When did that happen? Guess we watched the pretty colors long enough that it was night time. Clouds were rolling in, too. Another winter storm, maybe? Sure looked that way, and the air smelled like electricity. 

We made it up to the house alright, but R.J. was looking pretty rough. We didn’t even try getting him up the stairs, just plopped him right down on the couch and watched as he tilted his head back and moaned. I wondered if he’d cut himself or gotten shot, and subsequently, gotten an infection. If that was the case, I had antibiotics. But he was gonna have to take it easy. I was wrong though. It wasn’t that at all.

I glanced down at the merc. His head was against back of the couch, palm placed firmly over his middle like he was feeling sick or something. He was still sweating, _profusely._ But one of these things was not like the other…namely, the thing in between his legs. The giant erection.

I stifled a laugh, leaned in toward Hancock, and whispered, “Do you see that?”

“Hey,” said Hancock, taking off his coat and tossing it onto the arm of the couch. I heard his chems clack around in his pocket. “Where’s that inhaler you sucked down just now?”

A groggy MacCready lifted his head up with a cloudy look in his eyes. “Huh? Oh…here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the empty jet, handing it off to Hancock. The first thing I noticed was that it wasn’t red, it was pink. Not only was it pink, but there was a little, white heart etched into the side.

“What is that?” I asked.

“_That,_” explained Hancock, “is precisely what’s wrong with MacCready.”

As if on cue, MacCready groaned and leaned his head back again. “Oh…” He shifted his weight. “Oh my god, what the hell? I just got really, really…you know…”

“I know,” answered Hancock. He took a seat next to MacCready, and I did the same, each of us sandwiching him in the middle. “Kid, you’re in for a wild night.” He set a hand on MacCready’s thigh which immediately elicited a quick jerk of his hips.

“Holy sh-uuuugh!” 

“What _is_ that?” I repeated, not satisfied with the information I was given.

“Doesn’t got a name,” explained Hancock. “But it’s jet with a little extra kick. A real particular kick, if you feel me. Do you feel me, MacCready?” He leaned closer and closer, lips barely brushing against the mercenary’s jaw. A month had gone by, so he was sporting his usual goatee like he used to wear. Hancock pulled his bun out so that his ashen hair could fall around his shoulders. His lips traced up his jaw, up up up, until they clasped around his ear.

“Hancock please,” begged MacCready, closing his eyes and shifting in his seat. “Please. Boss. Both of you. Just do something. Oh my god this is unbearable.”

Wow. Now _I_ was hard. MacCready was out of control, and neither of us had even done anything yet. Who was I to say no? I was ready, man!

“Wait,” said Hancock, batting away my eager hand. Aww. I just wanted to touch his dick. “This stuff lasts for about an hour. What do you say we have a little fun with him?”

“What does that mean?!” wailed MacCready. 

Hancock and I grinned and exchanged roguish glances.

-

“So, where’d you get all these toys, anyway?” asked Hancock, smacking MacCready on the ass with the crop. 

“Oh!” he cried, jerking his hips forward. His cock throbbed inside of its metal ring. My roof was low enough that tying his hands up to the rafters with a couple feet of rope wasn’t an issue. He was made to kneel there on my bed, dick straining while Hancock beat him raw. 

“Eh, here and there,” I answered, slapping him across his belly with the flogger. 

“Ah!” He jerked backward, sticking his ass out for Hancock to see. In turn, Hancock whipped his rear again which sent MacCready forward with another moan, giving me the opportunity to bring the flogger down on him again which sent him reeling back. He bounced to and fro, the smack of the crop on the back and the hiss of the flogger on the front.

“What about the buttplug?” asked Hancock, reaching over and gripping it. 

“Oh fuck me!” 

“Calm down, you’re not getting anal. I’m just readjusting the plug.” 

“Please, Hancock…do something…anything…”

He was practically weeping. I was a little concerned, come to think of it. “Man, you sure those chems were safe? He’s really, uh…” 

He was so hard it was a wonder he still hadn’t cum. His cock was swollen, red, dribbling onto my sheets. I reached over and gently ran my index finger up his underside. The reaction I got was priceless. He threw his head back and groaned. So much clear liquid oozed out of him just then that I thought he’d hit his peak, but no, it was all pre. It dripped and dripped while MacCready shuddered.

“I’ve never been so horny in my entire life…this is awful…you’re both awful.”

“I disagree,” said Hancock, and hit him with the switch one more time before hitting me with it too, right in the thigh. 

“Ow”! I shrieked with a small laugh.

“Don’t you laugh. Get on the fucking bed.”

My smile fell. I was still happy, but…damn. He was scary. I missed Hancock topping, truly I did. I got onto the bed in front of MacCready, forcing him to watch, while Hancock spread me open and beat my thighs raw. At first it was fine. I gritted my teeth and suffered through it. But soon it was torture. I moaned a little at first. Okay, that was alright. But the next time he hit me, it was too hard. “Ah!” He hit me again. “Fff!” And again. I tossed my head back and trembled.

Just as I was really starting to feel the lingering after-sting, Hancock pulled my shirt off, jerked my pants down, and began pressing loving kisses across my middle. I squirmed underneath him. Watching MacCready was making me hard already, but now I was helpless. 

Hancock then held MacCready’s dick over my belly and started stroking him. MacCready was a moaning mess in an instant. More pre spilled out of him, and this time it landed on my belly. It made me hot as hell. I licked my lips and moved my hips against nothing, desperate for friction. MacCready was doing the same.

Suddenly, I was on fire. Hancock was stroking me too. His right hand worked MacCready and his left worked me. Both of us were moaning and squirming at his touch. I closed my eyes and took it all in. Hancock’s rough hand against my dick, MacCready’s desperate pleas filling my ears, the rise and swell of bliss in my groin. 

“Oh! Don’t stop!” pleaded MacCready. I opened my eyes. He tugged at the rope, jerking his hips forward.

“That’s right,” whispered Hancock in that low, sultry rumble. “You want it so bad? Fuck my hand and cum all over the boss.”

“O-o-okay!” MacCready thrust his hips. But Hancock took his hand back, at least for a moment.

“You gotta ask him real nice, MacCready.”

Oh, Hancock. I knew he liked his verbal, little subs. So did I, in fact, and I was very, very into what he was doing. So into it that I was struggling to hold back. He was still rubbing me off, and the tension in my balls was almost overwhelming. 

“P-please boss! I wanna cum so bad! Please let me cum on you!”

I gave him a smirk and nodded. “Do it R.J. Cum for me.” 

Hancock cupped his hand and eased MacCready’s dick back inside of it, keeping it firm in the air for him to fuck. And he did. Fast and hard and relentlessly. He was sweating, groaning, gasping. All the while, Hancock pumped me so good that I failed to suppress a moan or two of my own. Hancock took his hand away from me for a split second, just long enough to whip himself out and push his cock against my leg.

He started to hump me, rolling his cock against my flesh while he fucked me with his fist. MacCready was moaning and rocking his hips against Hancock’s other fist. At one point, we all groaned at the same time.

“I’m gonna cum!” gasped MacCready, whose voice sounded like it was about to give out. 

“S-Sunshine?” asked Hancock, panting as he grinded faster against my leg. 

“Yeah, just like that John…”

“Ahhh!” cried MacCready, “I’m coming, boss!”

“Cum on me!”

“Yeah!” 

His cock jumped inside of Hancock’s hard fist and pulsed once, then twice, before a huge load spilled over my cock and belly. MacCready couldn’t stop moaning. He just knelt there, shaking and coming all over me over and over again. 

Hancock’s grip slammed up and down my dick. The repeat motion coupled with MacCready’s hot cum across my groin was all it took for me to cum all over myself. I didn’t make any noise, just watched this spectacle unfold with starry eyes and hard release.

And finally, Hancock grunted, gave one final thrust to my leg, stood up, let go of MacCready, pumped his own cock, and came right onto my chest with a series of raspy sighs. He sounded like he was letting loose after being built up for far too long, a dreamy look in his black eyes. 

MacCready throbbed once more, another gush of cum splattering across my middle. I did too. It dripped down my length and pooled around my balls. Hancock gave himself a final couple of shakes and his streams grew shorter and shorter until he was dribbling onto himself and the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” panted MacCready. “The hell kind of jet was that?!”

Hancock coughed and caught his breath. “The fun kind, MacCready. The _really_ fun kind.”


	36. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready and Nate go Christmas shopping! Nate gets distracted by a particular display.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Nate understands the meaning of "window shopping."

All in all, life was good. Hancock still hadn’t told me he was in love with me again outright, but I suspected he was. That much was evident by the bouquet he left on the table before returning to Goodneighbor to resume his mayoral duties for a stint. Sure, it was a dormant grenade bouquet, but that was my favorite kind of bouquet. Besides, they were done up all pretty with some decorative weeds and a red ribbon. Adorable.

MacCready was doing…alright.

On good days, he was mostly his old self, aside from the fact that he swore now and topped more. Honestly, it was still jarring. He had a jaded, world-weary air about him. On bad days, he woke up sobbing, desperate to have his son back. Sometimes I could console him, and other times, he would leave for a few hours. I don’t know where he went. To be alone, I guess. It scared me a little. But he always came back, and we still travelled together.

He didn’t mention marriage or children again. I tried to bring it up over dinner once, but he told me to keep our dialogue less ‘serious.’ I asked what he meant by that. He said he was committed to me and enjoyed our intimacy, but that he was still mourning the loss of his son and wasn’t ready to talk about settling down, that he regretted ever bringing it up with me. “Is it me?” I asked, and he assured me it wasn’t. So I gave him his space. Quest, loot, fuck, repeat. That was the routine.

During the first or second week of December, I woke up under my warm blankets. Thank god for the generator powering that shoddy, old space heater, because it was snowing outside. I hadn’t seen Kingsport in the snow before, but from what I could see out of my window, it was beautiful. 

I burrowed my face into MacCready’s shoulder. “Baby.”

“Hrm?” 

I wrapped my arms around his middle and scooted in close, hips brushing against his bare ass. “Come on. We gotta go Christmas shopping.”

Suddenly, he jerked awake. “Whoa!”

“What? What’s wrong?” I sat up and hovered over his body. MacCready flung the covers off of his naked legs and looked down. 

“Damn it!”

Evidently, I had roused him from an enticing fantasy. I watched a little cum dribble into his lap. “Dreaming of me, R.J.?” I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Either you or your mom.”

I smacked him on the ass and he laughed. Then, I reached around and grabbed his still-erect dick, giving it a soft pump. MacCready licked his lips and sighed, watching me squeeze a little excess cum out. That made me horny. _Really_ horny. I ground my crotch against his ass and pulled his hips closer.

“Hey, I thought you said we had shopping to do?” he smirked. “Or did you already get me a package?”

“Assuming you’re dreaming of a white Christmas, then yeah.” 

“That’s terri-mph!” I kissed him before he could insult me or my amazing jokes. I continued kissing him, grinding against his butt until my dick was nice and hard. Every time I brushed up against him I grew stiffer and stiffer. Finally, MacCready turned over, rolled on top of me, and started slipping his way underneath the covers, kissing my lips, neck, chest, belly, hips, and thighs on the way down, until finally…

“Oh…” I sighed, pulling the covers up to my chest and burying the man underneath of them. My hands dipped under too, fingers tangling in his long, blond hair as he took my entire cock into his mouth. I pushed his head toward my hips. God, that felt good. I always got so hard sleeping next to him, and mornings when he blew me were my favorite. He was getting good, too.

Me? I liked getting sucked off. Hancock was still the best at it – years of experience and all that – but MacCready was learning. MacCready’s vice was anal. From the first time I rubbed his prostate, forcing him to cum on himself, he was sold. Hancock couldn’t get off that way no matter how hard he tried; I could, although generally speaking I needed to pair it with some friction on my dick. Hancock’s thing was always topping, but not so much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, he still lived for topping: beating me and MacCready raw, smacking us around, dominating us. But what he was really starting to get into was being surprised. Like when MacCready threw him on the couch, choked him, and commanded him to bend over. Like I said, Hancock didn’t even like anal, but he really liked MacCready’s sudden change in attitude. Or like the time I passionately kissed him back in Goodneighbor. 

These thoughts coupled with MacCready’s warm mouth on my cock were really getting me off. I was right there. “Keep going…” I panted. He did. He worked me and worked me and sucked me and sucked me, hot little mouth clamping down around me, tongue twisting up my length like this was the last BJ on earth, until…

MacCready pulled back. “Sorry,” he said after five, six minutes, wiping his mouth and poking his head out from the covers. “My jaw’s starting to get sore.”

“No, no…christ, I’m right there but…”

“Do you want me to turn around?”

“Could you?”

MacCready nodded and got on his hands and knees. I lubed myself up with some cooking oil (hey, not a lot of options in the Commonwealth, and it beats the hell out of spit) and started to take him. He felt nice squeezing around me and all that, but he was already spent and flaccid and he wasn’t really making any noise. I pulled out a couple minutes later.

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Hey, it’s alright. Maybe it’s the weather.”

“Eh, maybe.” It wasn’t the weather. I was stressed out. I pined for MacCready in more ways than morning quickies, not that I didn’t enjoy them. I really wanted him to love me, too. Maybe he did. But after asking me to lay off, the fact that he might be too afraid to itched at the back of my mind. “Come on,” I said, grabbing a long, red hat off of my dresser and slapping it over his head.

“Oh come on! Do I really have to wear this Santa hat?”

“Of course not. You can always go with the alternative: be a massively disappointing Grinch of a man who doesn’t believe in the Christmas spirit.”

“Ugh. Fine.” He grabbed his boxers from our floor. Er, my floor. Was he my partner? Roommate? Boyfriend? Live-in fuckbuddy? “Let’s grab breakfast and go. You still have that Christmas list?”

“Oh yeah. I got everyone: naughty _and_ nice.” 

“Great. Who’s first?”

-

“Are you serious?! How are we supposed to carry this out of here!” 

“I didn’t think that far ahead, MacCready.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and snorted. “Well that’s pretty important, dontcha think?! How are we supposed to haul an entire printing press to Diamond City _in the snow?!_”

-

“Stop right there!” I bellowed.

“Whoa, okay man! Chill out!” The raider threw her hands up and dropped her pipe pistol. Her little boyfriend followed suit, his shoddy gun clattering onto the sleet-covered pavement. 

“Do you know what this is?”

“A g-g-gun?” The male raider swallowed. Hard.

“It’s a laser weapon fully equipped with a six-crank capacitator.”

MacCready coughed. “Worstgunever.” Another cough.

“One pull of the trigger,” I continued, “and consider yourselves a pile of ash. Got it?”

“Y-y-yeah,” stuttered the female raider, “but how are you gonna hit both of us? I’m n-n-not trying to get shot or anything but-”

“He has great aim,” beamed MacCready. He poised his rifle. “And guess what, darlin’? Mine’s even better. Wanna see?”

“No! We’ll do whatever you want! Just let us live!”

I grinned. “Hope you guys have strong arms.”

-

“How did you two…?”

“Innovation. Muscle. All of the things that make me so likable.”

“You mean insufferable,” corrected Valentine. “Now hurry up and get that thing inside before you let the cold in. I’ll keep it in the back and make sure Piper doesn’t see before Christmas.”

“Thanks, Valentine,” I said, and MacCready and I got to work on hauling it indoors. Well. That was one item down. Only a million more to go. We stopped off at the Dugout afterward for a well-earned drink. Thank god, too, because spending the entire day with MacCready and a persistent hard-on wasn’t incredibly comfortable. In fact, I ended up paying Yefim for a room (you know, for a ‘nap’) just so I could get off. But I couldn’t. And MacCready tried (bless his heart) sucking me off again and working me with his hands, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Where to next?” he asked long after I had given up. We stood in front of the city next to the big statue. It was a beautiful winter’s day. The snow was finally starting to stick too, making the statue, the wall, even Cricket’s caravan over there look like they were covered in white, fluffy clouds. 

“Got a couple of clothing items I need.”

“Like what?”

“Nick needs a new coat.”

MacCready chuckled. “You’re goddamn right he does. That thing looks worse than my hat.”

“No it doesn’t. Why do you think I wanted you to wear the Santa hat?”

“You said it was because of the Christmas spirit!”

“Yeah, well, it’s also because your hat looks like Swiss cheese, kid. Anyway, I wanted to see if there was something there for Deacon, too. Like a tacky Christmas sweater or something.”

“Alright. Well, Fallon’s is probably your best bet, but last I checked it was overrun with supermutants.”

“Greenskins? We can take’m.”

“If you say so.” He lit up a cigarette and we got underway. MacCready made sure not to look Cricket in the eyes as we passed by. After all, the two of them had…well, you know. This did nothing to stop her from saying,

“Hey! You! You with the hat!”

“Ugh…h-hey, Cricket,” said MacCready with a wave and a grin that were compliant at best. I snickered. I bet MacCready really regretted that drunken night back at Taffington last year. 

“Hey! You still sellin’…_guns?_”

“Uh, maybe…” answered MacCready, taking a drag of his cigarette. There was a twinge of caution in his tone. “What _kind_ of gun?”

“You know. The…” Cricket looked to the left, then to the right. “…_MAGNUM._” 

“Uh, nope! Sorry! That gun is, uh, no longer for sale! Well, bye Cricket!”

“Come on, man! Never seen anything like it before. Packed a punch. If ya feel me.”

“I…uh…”

“I’m talkin’ about your dick man.”

“I know!”

“If I knew more guys like you, I could open up a whole different kind of weapons shop. Heh.”

MacCready was bright red. I had to admit, it was a little funny at first, but she was being persistent and I was pretty over Cricket sexually harassing my partner. “Back off,” I threatened.

“Whoa man. Sorry,” she said, and focused her attention on the settlers coming in from the opposite direction.

“You okay?” I asked. 

“Nghyeehhhgghhh.” That was the same noise he made whenever there were ferals or radroaches around, or when he stepped in something sticky. 

“Yeah, nghyeehhhgghhh is right. Come on, buddy.”

-

Well, we almost got through Fallon’s unscathed. Supermutants weren’t the brightest creatures in the Commonwealth, but they sure were persistent. That one big guy up at the top of the escalator just would _not_ frigging die! He stuck around long enough to land a shot on me too, right in the shoulder. I’d been shot, stabbed, hit in the face with mirelurk queen acid, you name it, so a single bullet didn’t freak me out like it used to. And pain? Well, that was something you learned to deal with in the Commonwealth. I knew if I could steady my aim long enough to shoot him, I’d be fine and I could deal with the bullet with some stims in a minute.

But before I could shoot him, the supermutant’s head exploded like the world’s goriest piñata. I clutched my shoulder and looked to my left. “Chalk up another kill for me!” smirked MacCready, the cute, cocky bastard he was.

“Nice shot,” I smiled. My smile quickly disappeared as soon as I removed my palm from my shoulder. Blood oozed into the fabric of my winter coat. “Aw, come on…”

“Might wanna take a stimpak for that arm,” he said. “Come on, I think they’re all dead but let’s hunker down somewhere just in case.”

We stepped over mutant hound corpses and hulking, dismembered limbs until we’d arrive in some sort of appliance display room. We plopped down, I took off my coat, and MacCready painfully squeezed out the bullet. I grunted, closing my eyes and biting down on the collar of my coat. 

“You’re doing great. Just another second and you’ll feel a lot better, trust me.”

I could feel the blood gushing out of my arm. Great. More laundry to do later. MacCready stuck the needle inside of the wound. Liquid left the syringe and started to work its magic, slowly mending the flesh. I leaned my head back against the wall and wiped away some sweat from my brow, releasing the collar of my shirt and taking a deep breath.

“There. Better, right?”

“Mhmm. Just need a sec.”

“Sure.” He glanced up. The wall I was leaning against was embedded with a wide pane of plexiglass and a door that led into the room behind it. I guess it was for putting stuff out for display, _expensive_ stuff, considering it had its own side-room. “Hmm, this looks promising,” said MacCready, and got up to enter the open door. I could hear him poking around in there. “Drumroll please…” A pause. “Ugh. Nothing but scrap in-” _SWISSSHHH! CLUNK!_ “Hey!”

I pulled myself to my feet with an achy groan and turned around. What I saw made me crack up in an instant. MacCready was trapped, palms against the glass with an angry look on his face.

“Dang it!” he hissed, voice muffled by the thick glass. “Get this door open!” He sure was cute when he was mad.

“I dunno, MacCready, so far this is the best display at Fallon’s.”

“Oh will you can it and open the door?”

“Yeah. Gimme a sec.” I reached out, grabbed the handle and… “It’s locked.”

“Well pick it, genius!”

“Uh…I’ll try but…” One pick. Two picks. Three picks. No way. It was not happening. 

“Oh for…” he scoffed, “there’s a terminal right behind you! Just hack it and let me out!”

I walked over to the terminal and set to work. Hm. Fallon’s huh? What could their password be? CLOTHES, I typed. _Sad buzz._ Wrong. How about, FALLONS. _Sad buzz._ Okay, not that. What about… _Happy buzz!_ “Heh. Admin. It’s always admin.” 

Great. Now all I had to do was select [REMOTE DOOR CONTROL] and let MacCready go. Or…

I walked back over to the glass. “Hey, I got the terminal unlocked.”

“Great, so what are you waiting for? It’s boring in here.”

“Not for long it isn’t. Open your fly.”

He paused, then looked at me like maybe he had heard me wrong. “What?”

“You heard me. Unzip your fucking pants. That is, if you ever want me to let you out. I can sit here all day.”

I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Was he angry with me? Confused? Turned on? All of the above? Regardless, he said, “Alright…” and slowly began to unbutton his pants. He unfastened his belt. Flung it open. Unzipped.

“Good. Now pull your dick out.”

I saw him swallow. “Okay.” He tugged those green, checkered boxers of his down and tucked them under his flaccid shaft. “Now what?”

“Touch yourself.”

MacCready licked his lips and looked down, taking his head between his fingers and rousing himself to a vague semblance of an erection. I think he was nervous. He was trapped behind glass, after all, with his cheeks burning bright red. Cute. He had just shaved his goatee off the night before, too, so I could watch all of him blush. He looked so young, so innocent, glancing up at me with those big, blue eyes of his and stroking his semi-soft dick.

I had been dying to get off all day. Now was my chance. I pulled up an old, wooden chair, took a seat, and sat down. He was beautiful, stroking himself in long, servile motions. 

“Touch your balls.”

He gave himself another pump or two, finally starting to get a little stiff, before reaching into his boxers and giving his sack a firm squeeze. This time, he parted his lips. I think he made a noise, but I couldn’t hear him from the other side of the glass like that. 

“Spit in your hand.”

He took his hand back. One more pump. Then another. He was harder now. Finally, he spit into his palm. 

“Jack off.”

MacCready nodded, rubbing himself to full erection. Now, he was straining in his own grip. I watched him for three, four minutes, holding himself up with one hand on the glass while the other rubbed himself closer and closer toward ecstasy. He was getting hard and swollen in his own palm. Gorgeous. But there was one problem.

“I can’t hear you.”

He swallowed nervously again and paused as though he were deliberating whether or not he was really comfortable with this. I mean, I got it. He was on display for me. It was different in a more intimate setting like our – my – house. But a viewing window? 

Fuck, though. I ached, absolutely _ached_ for MacCready. He just looked so pretty like that.

Finally, he gave himself another pump, rocking his hips forward with a forced moan. It quavered a little, like he was uncomfortable with the way he sounded behind the glass. 

I took myself out of my pants and showed him what he had done to me. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He licked his lips, jerked himself off, and moaned again. This time, it was more authentic. More ragged. I think he was starting to feel good back there. I know I sure was. 

I stroked myself, too, long, hard pumps of both fists that brought me closer and closer to orgasm. I watched MacCready with hungry eyes, imagining my fists being his tight, little asshole, my dick buried inside of him. Every time he moaned, I pictured myself fucking him with his legs over my shoulders, begging and begging for release.

“Put that hard little cock of yours against the glass, MacCready.”

“O-o-okay boss…” he said, and eased his hips forward. He tucked his dick in between his belly and the glass. “Do you want me to-”

“Yeah. Rub on the glass for me baby.”

He did. And it. Was. _Glorious._ He was so hard I couldn’t believe it. I was sure he wasn’t going to be into it at first, not after the faces he made. But now, both hands were behind his head, arms bent at the elbows while he fucked himself hands-free on the glass. Spit and pre made the pane messy and opaque. 

I started pumping myself faster. I was getting really, really turned on. MacCready tilting his head toward the ceiling, moaning, squishing his aching cock between his stomach and the glass, squeezing and squeezing tighter and tighter. 

I got up and knelt down in front of the glass, ‘licking his cock’ from the other side. “Ahhh…” moaned MacCready, glancing down and watching me tease him without touch. “I want you to suck my dick so bad boss…”

“How bad do you want it, MacCready?”

He pumped his hips faster, arms still behind his head. His length was so rigid against the glass I was afraid it hurt, but his eyes were hazy and happy, voice cracking as he moaned again. “I need to be sucked boss! Ohhh, please!”

I licked up the glass again, torturing him while he reeled harder and harder against it, hips undulating without an end in sight. He was desperate. Fucking the glass like he was going to die if he had to stop.

“Oh! Suck me! Right there! RIGHT THERE!” He slammed his hands on the glass so abruptly that I staggered back. My eyes shot open. He thrust his shaking hips against the pane one more time before he erupted all over himself. Like a volcano, it shot up and oozed back down, dripping down his cock and the rest of the glass. He shuddered and jerked his hips again. Another spurt. This time, he pulled back and let his tip slowly slide through the hot cum that had collected. I watched his head sink lower and lower, pressed against the surface, every little tug luring another fervent stream of cum from him. He came all the way down the glass until he was left dripping into the floor, shaking and moaning all the while. Finally, he pumped himself to completion, shaking out that last, tiny bit.

“God _damn…_” I whispered.


	37. Heights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where does MacCready go when he needs to be alone? Nate is determined to find out...but is he ready to hear the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide.
> 
> -
> 
> As you can see, I have named my chapters. Why? Why not! Life is short! Eat, drink, be merry, and name chapters!

I finally opened the door and let him out. Between MacCready’s cum and my blood, we were a wreck. We tried to make ourselves presentable, but it wasn’t happening. I gave up on getting off (_again_) and helped him look around for something warm to wear in lieu of his sticky duster, simultaneously keeping an eye out for Christmas presents. I didn’t even think about avoiding the kid’s department on the way to the men’s…and what a mistake that was. Something clattered to the ground. I looked over my shoulder and watched MacCready wrench his face up, dropping his rifle and sinking down to the floor.

“Whoa, R.J.?”

“Duncan had a sweater just like that,” he said between tears, pointing to a small mannequin.

“Oh…shit, baby, I’m sorry.” 

I consoled him as best I could, but he was beyond consolation. It was just one of those days, I guess.

“I’ve gotta get outta here for a while,” he said.

“Now? In the snow? MacCready, if you need space, I get it, but you aren’t seriously going to go out there without a coat on, are you?”

“You’re worried about my coat? Not about the mutants, or raiders?”

“Well yeah, that too, but-”

“Look, I’ll be fine. Just finish your shopping. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“R.J…”

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he repeated, grabbing his gun and storming off with tears in his eyes. I sighed. What did he even do out there? Did he just find a spot to hunker down and cry? Did he scream? Did he drink? Smoke? All of the above? I worried so much. Why couldn’t he have just waited at the entrance to the store or something? Going out into the elements seemed excessive. Besides, it was late in the afternoon, which meant it was starting to get dark. If anything happened to him…

I sucked it up and pressed on. Trust was important. He told me he’d be back, and he would. Time to get over myself and do my stupid Christmas shopping.

It was a fun idea before. Me and MacCready, scouring the Commonwealth for fun, little trinkets for our friends. I loved his little Santa hat. It went great with his green duster. But it wasn’t fun anymore. I couldn’t goddamn cum, and now my partner was crying. Ugh. Fantastic.

At least I found a good coat for Nick. Seriously. That thing was dapper as hell. I even considered snagging it for myself, but honestly, it was just so _Valentine._ It was long and black with big buttons and a gray collar. Very 1920s noir. I couldn’t find a tacky Christmas sweater for Deacon, but I did find a tackily-_colored_ sweater and an entire box of Christmas decorations in storage: fake poinsettias, big jingle bells, colorful pompoms, the works. I grabbed it all. My backpack was full to bursting. Finally, I grabbed a handsome, black sweater for MacCready. Where was he, anyway?

It was five minutes past the time he said he’d be back. I stepped outside. It was dark. The lights from Milton General Hospital glowed from across the street, casting a yellow aura against the snow. Damn it. Where _was_ he?

Another thirty minutes went by. I knew looking around for him in the dark wasn’t smart, so I tried to bide my time. I lit up a smoke. After MacCready left the Commonwealth, I took up the habit. Like I said before, it reminded me of him. Now that he was back, I figured I’d stop since the real deal was living under my roof, but I was hooked. Smoke left my nostrils and wafted into the frigid air. The cold was pushing against my sinuses, and my head was starting to ache, the first symptoms of one of those migraines I started getting after being in cryostasis. 

I finished my cigarette and tossed it into the fresh snow. Well, time to go looking, I guess. I sighed and hoisted my backpack over my shoulders. I hadn’t taken two steps onto the street before a familiar figure came bobbing down the road.

“The hell were you, Robert?!”

“I hate when you call me that,” he said, rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air onto them. “I just needed to be alone for a while.”

“Fine, but you’re late! Really late!”

He glanced down at his wristwatch. Wait, that thing _still_ worked? “Eh, little over a half an hour.”

“You’re _fifty_ minutes late, MacCready! It’s dangerous out here and you know it.”

“What do you think I did before I met you, idiot?”

“Signed up for stupid clubs?”

“Ugh. Before the Gunners, I mean. I travelled…_alone._ And regardless of how you treat me some days, I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself. How many times have I saved your ass?”

I didn’t know what to say. He had saved my ass before, but I had saved his, too. And he had a point: he was fully capable of hanging out by himself for a couple hours. But I was just so goddamn afraid of losing him again. He wasn’t impervious to damage; if he was, he wouldn’t have had that scar on his chin that showed when he shaved, or that missing tooth, things I still had yet to ask him about. Is this how he felt when I went back to HalluciGen without him?

I winced. Ugh. My head. 

Whatever. It wasn’t worth arguing over. We still had plenty of shopping to do and it wasn’t going to get done if we were at each other’s throats. Better to pick my battles anyway. “Fine. Let’s just go. Here. Put this on.” I shoved the sweater into his arms. I didn’t do a very good job; he dropped it into the snow.

“Uh, thanks?” He replied, picking it up. But I was already walking away.

Milton General and Fallon’s weren’t all that far from Diamond City. We were back within the hour. I dropped off Nick’s coat with Piper, then headed over to one of my Minutemen settlements, Hangman’s Alley, where I dropped off the massive supply of crafts for Deacon’s gift. I boxed everything, labeled it “Kingsport,” and set it next to the workbench for the provisioner to grab and haul back to my place whenever was convenient. No rush. There were still a few weeks until Christmas, and I needed the free space in my pack.

Considering we’d grabbed a bite to eat in the city and took our time at the settlement, it was closer to seven in the evening. Dark enough not to want to explore, but too early to call it quits. Not to mention my headache wasn’t getting any better. 

“Where to now?” asked MacCready, bundled up in that black sweater. His hands were shoved under his armpits. 

“Curie’s been doing a lot of research in Vault 81 with Dr. Forsythe, and I know she’s been teaching science to Katy’s class too. I think I have just the thing.”

-

“Awww,” said MacCready. “That’s a sweet gift, boss.”

“Think so? Not too…derivative?” 

“No way! Curie loves kids. She’ll go crazy for one of these build-your-own-volcano kits.”

I nodded and started tucking it away in my pack. Thank god the Science Center Gift Shop in Cambridge still had neat stuff for sale. I paid the Mr. Handy and we resumed our adventure. As soon as we left the building, a flurry of snow whipped across our faces like a blizzard. 

Ugh. Maybe if I could have gotten off I would have felt better, but I was getting past that point. I wasn’t even horny anymore. Just miserable. 

“It’s getting dark…” said MacCready.

“Should we hunker down at Ticonderoga?”

“That safehouse for the Railroad? Eh.”

“They have heating, you know.”

“You’re probably right. I just like spending time with you.”

“MacCready,” I placed my hands on his shoulders. “I _love_ spending time with you, but sweetheart, I’m covered in blood and I have a headache the size of the Glowing Sea. Can we please, _please_ go somewhere with a bed and warmth?”

“Of course,” he said, looking concerned but also somewhat frustrated. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Because you pissed me off, idiot. I’m mad at you, and I don’t want to share my thoughts and feelings with you. Especially since you’re feeling vulnerable. Why burden you? You’re sad about Duncan. Who cares how I feel?

“I don’t know.”

“Well, try to communicate better,” he said.

Ha.

There it was: the final straw. My repressed feelings, my constant worrying, getting shot, erectile dysfunction, the shitty weather, my head, and now _this?_ That was the straw, I was the camel, and my back had just fucking snapped.

I laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh.

“What?”

“Communicate better? This, coming from the guy who keeps wandering off into the apocalypse to do god only knows what?” I took my hands back and folded them indignantly across my chest.

“I just need to be alone sometimes,” he insisted. “I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“And I thought _you_ of all people would understand how scary it is to have the man you love walk away!” I shouted. Anger surged through me.

“You’re in love with me?”

It occurred to me in that moment, standing on the dock of the snowy bay in the middle of the frigid snowstorm that I had never actually confessed my love for him outright. He had, but not me. Not that it wasn’t true, mind you, but this was the first time MacCready was hearing it out loud.

“I…” What was I supposed to say? MacCready had _just_ told me to back off. He wanted to fuck and quest, not discuss building a life. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“Don’t you DARE jerk me around like that! Do you love me or not?!”

“…”

I felt like I did the time I used his wife’s memory as ammunition against him. I felt rotten. But I couldn’t say yes. Why, though? Was it because I was mad? Put on the spot? Did _I_ need space? Whatever the case was, I didn’t have time to figure it out. I had really, _really_ pissed him off.

“Oh, fuck you.” He turned around and walked off into the snow.

“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” I shouted, balling my fists up.

“Home!”

“You’re _walking?!_ To _Kingsport?!_”

MacCready turned around to shout back at me. “No, idiot! To Goodneighbor!”

My jaw fell. “Goodneighbor? GOODNEIGHBOR?!” I jogged toward him, the items in my pack clanging around behind me. Between my heavy gear and the snow, I was already winded by the time I approached him. “Wh…what do you mean _Goodneighbor_ is your home?! Why not Kingsport?!”

“Man, you know I hate the ocean. It’s not like I don’t complain about it all the time.”

“What are you talking a-” 

Oh. Actually. Now that I thought about it… Memories of MacCready flashed through my mind, surrounded by boats or mirelurks or waves. 

_“Don’t know what’s worse, the smell of rotting seaweed or the pungent stink of the algae.” – “Read a book once that said ocean views are breathtaking. Must have been a work of fiction.” – “The allure of the sea…what a crock.”_

“Holy shit, you really do hate the ocean.”

“Uh, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, turned back around, and tried to storm off. 

“Don’t just walk away!”

“UGH! WHY NOT?!” He flung open his arms and screamed these words at the sky as though he were asking God why Nate wouldn’t get off of his back.

“Because I don’t want you walking by yourself like this! You don’t even tell me what you do when you wander off alone, and I can’t stop worrying about you!”

“Sucks, doesn’t it? Having your partner take off without knowing whether or not they’re okay?” scoffed MacCready. An homage to my leaving the Commonwealth, no doubt.

“Oh, what is this, revenge for last year?”

“No,” he said. “Okay, so, maybe I was wrong to turn that against you just now, but when I walk off to be alone it’s because I’m upset about my son. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Where do you _go_, MacCready?” I pleaded. “Just tell me. I’m worried sick about you.”

He sighed and looked down. His voice got quiet. “I find a tall, tall building, climb on top of it, and sit.”

“And…?”

“And convince myself not to jump off.” 

My stomach turned inside out. “Oh…R.J…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do it. I wanted to for a long time after I found out my son was dead, but I never got the courage to follow through. I guess I stuck around long enough to start wondering what’d happened if I came back here with you, and well, now I just climb buildings because it’s familiar and kind of cathartic. I’ve always liked climbing stuff, so.”

“Please don’t die.”

“I won’t,” he said, looking back into my eyes. “I promise. Nate, I loved my son more than I’ve ever loved anyone. This is gonna take a while. I’m sorry to drag you down with me in the meantime.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But please,” he continued, “let me climb stuff.”

“Alright, R.J. If that’s what you need. As long as you’re safe.” I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. He hugged me back, his lean arms wrapped awkwardly around my backpack. “I love you.”

I felt a warm sigh against my chest. “I love you too. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Well I’ve never told you…and it’s how I’ve always felt.”

“Really?” He looked up at me. I must have been half a foot taller, at least. 

“Yeah. Really.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because…” My voice cracked. “Because I’m an idiot?”

“No you’re not. Well, not all the time. Not for this reason at least.”

“Hey…”

He was still wearing that stupid Christmas hat, tilting his head, reaching up and mussing up my hair. “Can we just pretend we didn’t fight and go back to Goodneighbor together?”

“Of course we can.”

Did I really want to hike all the way back to Boston in the snow, in the dark? Fuuuck no. But it was clearly what MacCready wanted, and I wanted to be with MacCready more than I wanted anything else in the world. He took my hand, icy fingers laced together, and we started our long, long trek back to Goodneighbor.


	38. "Cake" (Birthday Special!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate wakes up to a surprise at the Old State House, and proof that pre-war dollar bills are not useless!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nov. 30 is my birthday, so I've decided to celebrate with Nate this year! I am not 234 years old though. I also prefer pie, not cake. But either way, hooray! -Author guy

A spat with my partner, snowy gales, impromptu gunfights with supermutants, a big, fat board to the face...all chased down with a shitty night of sleep at the Rexford starting at three in the morning and ending at ten. 

_“I don’t want to set the woooorld onnnnn fiiiirrrrre~”_

I slammed the button on my pipboy’s alarm. “You know what, The Inkspots? I do, though. I want to set everything on fire. The world, my head…_especially_ my head…” I sat up. “MacCready?” He was nowhere to be seen. Huh. 

I brushed my teeth, washed my long, dark hair out in the sink, trimmed a couple stray hairs on my beard – maybe it was time for a change, soon – and got dressed: blue jeans and a t-shirt, tucked underneath my usual leather jacket, coupled with my Minutemen general’s coat. When I stepped out of the Rexford, it was still cold out. At least it wasn’t snowing anymore. In fact, it was nice and sunny.

I lit up a cigarette and rubbed the dark circles under my eyes. A couple of Hancock’s goons were mucking about in the snow, building a snowman with a striking resemblance to a certain Diamond City mayor. A guy in suspenders and a big, winter coat pulled out his pistol and capped the snowman in the head. Everybody cheered and began singing carols. So this was what a wholesome holiday season in Goodneighbor looked like, huh?

I wished I were in a better mood, because it was lovely. Mistletoe was hanging in the doorway of the Old State House. Garland was strung up over the outhouse, and strips of corrugated metal hung like decorative icicles across the rooftops. Someone had even stuffed a radstag and taped a bright, red inhaler of jet to both its noses. It stood valiantly mounted upon the roof of the Memory Den. Sure, it was rotting and smelled atrocious, but I had to admit, it was pretty creative. 

Even Magnolia looked beautiful, wearing a clean, red coat with white fur on the collar and a pair of shiny, black boots. She waved and I waved back before she entered the Old State House with her gloved hands rubbing together. I wondered if she sang jazzy carols at the Third Rail this time of year.

At any rate, I followed behind her at a slow pace, starting to climb the stairs just as I saw her exit at the top. By the time I reached Hancock’s office, I was met with the last thing in the world I expected to hear. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Sounds of streamers erupted and confetti rained down like…well like confetti. Was that shredded, pre-war money? Some Goodneighbor citizens shouted in enthusiasm, others in compliance, ending in variants of my name: Nate, Sunshine, Boss, Shroud, even Wanker. (Gee, thanks Whitechapel.) I blinked, shook my head, and glanced down at my pipboy to check the date.

“Huh. I’ll be damned.”

“Wow,” chuckled MacCready, looking over my disheveled appearance. “You sure look like you’ve aged.” 

I glowered. 

“Come on, we got you a cake!”

I hated cake. Besides, “That’s a sweetroll.”

“Yeah, but look!” MacCready snatched it out of Kent’s hands. “See? It even has a candle!”

I smirked. “Is that a scented candle?”

“It’s called _Tropical Petals,_” said Magnolia, “given to me by a gentleman suitor whose company I declined.”

“He gave you a candle?” I raised a brow. “Well that’s when you know it’s getting serious.”

She played along with my humor. “Exactly, which is why I’m giving it to you to blow out. We’re all very serious about your birthday, handsome.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Mags.”

I went through the usual birthday motions: cringe while everyone sings off-key, blow out the ass-smelling candle, make a wish – my wish being to move out of Kingsport with MacCready and settle down somewhere he enjoyed – eat the sweetroll, and see everyone off. Magnolia, Whitechapel, Ham, Irma, Kent, Dr. Amari, Daisy, KL-E-0, and finally, Fahrenheit took off, leaving me, MacCready and Hancock to snag a moment’s peace. I had not been expecting a two hour affair. In fact,

“I didn’t even realize today was my birthday. Thank you. Both of you.”

“Two hundred and thirty five?” asked Hancock.

“Two hundred and thirty _four,_ thanks.” I plopped down on his sofa and whipped out a smoke. MacCready reached around back of me with his lighter, lit me up, and rubbed my shoulders. Mm. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Forty-six.” 

MacCready and I exchanged glances. I could tell we were thinking the exact same thing: that there was a twenty-two year age gap between the mercenary and the mayor. They were far enough apart that they could have been father and son. Eugh. All thoughts and feelings I had toward being too old for R.J. were tossed right out the window. Man. What were we all _doing_ with each other?

Hancock knelt down in front of me, placing a hand on either of my knees. “So,” he rasped, spreading my legs slowly apart, “any ‘special requests’ from the birthday boy?”

I took another drag and handed my cigarette off to MacCready. “Coffee’d be great.”

Hancock made a face at me. “Coffee? That all?”

“Mhmm.” I snatched the mayor’s hat, put it on my head, and tipped it over my eyes to block out the light. Then I lied down, tossed my arms over my middle, and tried to snooze. I could hear my companions talking, though.

“What’s eating him?”

“We were out late. Yesterday was pretty rough for both of us,” explained MacCready.

I actually managed to drift off for a little bit before Hancock sat the cup down on the table and roused me from my light slumber. “Here you go.”

I plonked his hat back onto his head and gave a tired smile, sitting back up and helping myself to my birthday drink. Mmm…yep. Tasted like a hot, steaming pile of shit. But that was Commonwealth coffee for you. I was just happy to be indoors, somewhat warm, and in good company. My partners joined me, MacCready with his coffee and Hancock with a tin of mentats, sitting on either side of me respectively. 

“How’s your head?” asked MacCready.

I almost said, ‘fine,’ but remembered our conversation yesterday, when he told me to try and communicate better. I might not have been a fan of the way he said it, but he was right. I was an idiot when it came to communicating. I needed to start getting serious if I expected MacCready to stick around.

“Between you and me, I feel like I’m about to toss up my ‘birthday cake.’”

“That’s not a very fun way to spend your birthday,” chided Hancock.

“What? With a migraine? Nah, it’s my favorite!”

Suddenly, I closed my eyes and moaned. MacCready’s strong hands were at the base of my head digging into my muscle, kneading out weeks, months worth of stress and tension. 

“Ohhhfuckmethatfeelssogrrrrrrrrdddddd…”


	39. The Philosophy of Gender and Sexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, MacCready and Hancock discuss their sexual preferences as they track down more Christmas presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't need me to tell you "no hateful comments," but you know, no hateful comments please. This is a safe space where all preferences, sexualities and genders are celebrated, even if Nate is an exclusively dong-oriented individual.

My chin sank down to my chest. I could feel Hancock slip the cup out of my grip before I dropped it. A wise move, because I was reduced to a puddle in seconds. Somehow, I ended up on my back with my head lying in Hancock’s lap, legs draped over MacCready with my feet dangling over the arm of the couch. Now, MacCready was working my legs while Hancock dug his nails into my scalp. Where’d my coat go? Or my jacket? Or my shoes? Or better question, who cared? This felt _great._

My partners were invested in a conversation that was just boring enough for me to clock out of. I think I fell asleep, because when I woke up, Hancock was massaging my temples and MacCready was working my feet. Were they _still_ at it? I was in heaven…

“What kind of women?” asked Hancock. Huh? What were they talking about?

“I dunno. Strong but feminine?”

“How so?”

“Well, like my wife. Like Lucy.” He rubbed out a sore spot on my heel. I didn’t even know I _had_ an ache there. Oh god that felt good. “She wasn’t really a fighter, but she was stronger than me, that’s for sure. The whole household would have fallen apart if she wasn’t there to keep it together. And she was beautiful. Long, blonde hair and these amazing, brown eyes. So yeah. Resilient, but kinda girly I guess.”

“What about guys?”

“I dunno. Guess I’m into masculine, older guys.”

I tilted my head up to share a glance with Hancock. We each raised a brow. “Old, huh?” I asked.

“Old_er_,” he corrected. “Anyway, I was never really into guys before. Not sure what that makes me. Bisexual, I guess? What about you, Hancock? You’re bisexual, right?”

“Eh, I like to think of myself more as pan.” Hancock’s palms scraped my jaw and he squeezed. Oooh, face rubs, yas! 

“Pan? What, like, you’re into bacon?”

“Who isn’t? But no. Pansexual. Men, women, both, neither, humans, synths, ghouls, feminine, masculine, androgynous, short, tall, thick, skinny…life is too short not to explore.”

“Yeah, I dunno,” mused MacCready, scratching his teensy bit of stubble with one hand while he squeezed my toes with the other. Mmm! Toe squeezes! “Androgyny was never really my thing I guess.”

“I dig it as much as I dig masculinity or femininity myself,” said Hancock, “but you do you. Question though: you like pussy, and you like dick, right?”

MacCready blushed. “Well, _some_ of them…”

“But you’re not turned off by either. You’ve been with a woman. You’ve been with a man. You’ve enjoyed both experiences.”

“Yeah, why?”

“So what about transgender?”

“So, like, a girl with a…?”

“Who’s biologically male, yeah. Or vice-versa.”

MacCready stopped massaging me. Nooo. Hancock, why did you have to be having a philosophical debate with MacCready?! I needed attention! It was my _birthday…!!!_

“And she wears girl clothes and does her hair and stuff?” asked MacCready.

“Yeah. Like, she’s obviously a woman. Feminine, resilient, blonde…just your type.”

“But she was born male?”

“Yeah.”

MacCready paused. Well shoot, now I was invested in the conversation. Honestly though, there was no way that was MacCready’s thing. I don’t know why, but I just knew he was gonna say-

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“Wait, really?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Well yeah. I mean, I like women, but I’m obviously not opposed to experimenting with, well…” He glanced down at my crotch. “What about you, boss? You’re gay, right?”

“As the day I was born.”

“So would you hook up with a guy if he wasn’t born that way?”

“Nope.”

“So you’d break it off with me if I didn’t have a…?”

I sighed. “That’s a horrible question to ask. I would never want to break up with you, MacCready.”

“But what if I had a…well…a vagina?” he whispered.

Hancock nudged me. “Why can’t he say the names of genitals without turning as red as a tato?”

I shrugged. “Look, MacCready, trans men are men, trans women are women, and everything in between is valid, but I am not, and I repeat _not_, into vaginas. Dick is love. Dick is life. Now keep rubbing my feet.”

-

“What if Hancock had a…vagina?” whispered MacCready.

“We’ve been over this a million times, MacCready,” I said, steps echoing off of the tile. Disabled laser tripwires surrounded me. I had disarmed them months ago, though, and Jamaica Plains was safe again. “I like dick.”

“No, I get that,” he said, stepping over a tripwire box on the ground, “I just can’t help but think that no matter how I was born, I’d still wanna live my life as a guy, you know. And the thought of us not being together…”

“I like dick.” I repeated. “A lot.”

Hancock snickered, taking the rear. 

“So if you were born with a…vagina,” he whispered again, “but you’re a guy, does that still make you gay?”

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” said Hancock.

“Is it, though?” I asked. “Because yeah, I’d be a guy who’s into other guys, so I’m pretty sure that’d still make me gay.”

“Fair enough,” replied the ghoul, “but when you’re dating, you gotta be upfront about that kind of thing. As it stands, Sunshine, you’re gay* with an asterisk.”

“An asterisk?”

“You like men, but only men with dicks.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothin’ wrong with having preferences, just sayin’ is all.”

I turned the corner. The three of us headed into the display room. The item I was looking for, Cait’s Christmas present, was right there in the broken display case. It was this beautiful, oak baseball bat. Man. She’d sure love beating the crap out of things with it. I snatched it and said,

“If that’s the case, then you can apply an asterisk to anything. A man can be straight* – asterisk – and still have that one, secret guy crush he’s always wanted to explore. It’s the exception, not the rule. I’m gay, and guys without dicks are the exception to that rule. My buddy Joe from Sanctuary Hills – God rest his soul – was also gay, but like I said, Joe was the exception. Great guy, but. Ya know. Joe had an asterisk.”

“Funny,” said MacCready, “asterisks are usually associated with butts.”

The ghoul and I exchanged glances.

“You know, because they’re shaped like buttholes?” Silence. “No? Nothing? Really guys?”

-

“I think a better term to describe you would be ‘cock-a-saurus rex,’ said Hancock after bashing in the raider’s face. He grunted and brought his stock down on her head. Ew. 

“As opposed to ‘gay?’” 

“Yeah. More accurate that way.”

MacCready laughed. “What does that make you, Hancock?” Another raider jumped out from behind cover, running down the center with a crowbar in hand. MacCready rolled his eyes. All it took was a single shot between the eyes and the raider was history.

“You kidding? The word pansexual doesn’t even scrape the surface when it comes to Hancock,” I said. Another metal-clad idiot jumped out from behind a crate. Two charges of my rifle and blam, brains everywhere. I wiped some sweat from my forehead. “Once, I saw him get high and hit on a cardboard cutout of the Silver Shroud.”

“Hey. That piece of cardboard had some curves,” defended the ghoul. 

“I think ‘sexual,’ period, is the best way to describe Hancock.”

“That’s fair. And I guess MacCready’s a pretty traditional bisexual considering he’s into men and women, no strings attached.”

“Heh,” I tittered. “A sexual, a bisexual, and a cock-a-saurus. I’d watch that sitcom.”

“Aw, how come I don’t get a fun name?” whined the merc.

I opened the steamer trunk and pulled out the stock I had left behind in the Federal Ration Stockpile long, long ago, before the raiders had resettled the place. It was the _perfect_ stock for a laser musket, and Preston was going to love it. 

“Consider yourself lucky,” I said. “Once cardboard cutouts get involved, things get complicated.”


	40. Rad-fried Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio picks up the last item on their shopping list and grabs a quick cup of coffee to boot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments and birthday wishes. Spending the day writing with a hot cup of coffee on a Saturday, watching the gray skies outside of my window; no work, no obligations, all the coffee....even a purring cat at my feet. The purrrfect birthday!

I awoke the same way any other stressed out thirty-something-year-old man wakes up: obsessing over his daily routine before his eyes even open with a slight headache, a hint of indigestion, a hard-on, and an insatiable lust for coffee. Tradition dictated I groan while sitting up from the bedroll, wiping some crust away from my eye sockets as I shivered and pulled out my cigarettes. I must have spent forever trying to get my lighter to spark.

“Here,” said MacCready with a yawn. He held out a happy little flame for which I was grateful.

“Thanks.” My voice sounded terrible. I took a long, long drag and exhaled. Not sure if what came out was cigarette smoke or my own hot breath against the cold. “Fuck.”

“Is…something the matter?” he asked, pulling his arms through the sleeves of his new, black sweater. He had really taken to it, which was sweet considering I’d only grabbed it as a last-ditch effort to keep him from catching cold.

“Yeah, I’m thirty-four and unhealthy.”

MacCready snickered and said, “Come on. Let’s get you some coffee. Hancock!” A steel-toe boot nudged the ghoul’s side. “How’s my favorite ghoul in the Commonwealth? Ready to face the day?”

“Urgh…why are you so damn chipper?” groaned Hancock, squinting as though the 6am light was too bright for him…despite the fact that we were in the safety of a manmade shack on the edge of Lake Quannapowwit. Quanpanowet. Quappanoww…ugh. The lake by the Galleria.

“Because it’s a great day for traveling!” sang MacCready, taking a drag of his own freshly-lit cigarette and hanging in the doorway. “What’s wrong with _you?_”

“I’m forty-six and unhealthy.”

-

Hancock and I complained the whole way to the General Atomics Galleria. Not by speaking, mind you, but with little grunts or creaking bones. I heard him wheezing and popping and he sure as hell heard me; I feel like we really bonded. And hey, weren’t sniper’s supposed to guard the rear? Why was MacCready up in front? And why was he smiling? Stupid kid with his stupid…his stupid…_youth._

Mr. Handys buzzed about the plaza. I had spoken with the supervisor a year or so ago – you know, that surly robot up top – and we reset the worker protocols. Before that, robots were attacking people, lighting the coffee shop on fire, heck, one even tried to cook me alive. Now, all of the robots were happy and healthy, unlike Nate and his good buddy Hancock.

“Coffee,” I wheezed, staring at the Slocum’s Joe. Codworth’s Christmas present was here somewhere, but that could wait. First, caffeinated beanwater. 

Bean, the Mr. Handy running the shop, greeted me with exuberance and glee. I stood with my feet planted in the snow, clutching the straps of my pack, and took it all in: the seasonal chill in the air, the Christmas melody playing on Diamond City Radio off in the distance of the Galleria, MacCready’s bright eyes, and Bean’s warm welcome. 

I could have punched him.

“Coffee.”

“Help yourself! Chimed Bean.

“Kay.” I grabbed a dirty cup from the counter and stuck the tail of my general’s coat inside of it, giving it a quick polish. I then approached the coffee machine at the end of the counter and stuck my cup underneath the spout. Even after I pushed the trigger, only a couple of drops came out. “Bean, my man, I think you’re out of coffee.”

“Just filled it this morning!” He whirred over to the machine, pressing the spout with a rusty appendage. I got out of his way, leaving my cup sitting flat on the counter underneath the machine. Again, only a drop came out. “Ah, I see the problem!” A steadfast limb banged on the machine. Was this going to be like one of those films where something didn’t work and suddenly it did after kicking it enough? If only.

Something came out of the spout, but it wasn’t coffee. It was a limb. “What the…?” Upon closer inspection, it was a long, brown limb, followed by another, and another, until finally those limbs hoisted a gnarled carapace out of the spigot. I stared in horror.

“Ugh, radroaches…” commented MacCready.

“Like little machines that just breed and eat,” added the ghoul. “Huh. Come to think of it, that doesn’t sound half bad.”

As soon as the mama unclogged herself from the machine, a dozen babies followed. Some scuttled behind her like the world’s worst parade while others dripped off of the machine, spilling into the counter and into the cup. And to make matters worse, Bean held down the lever, piping hot brew filling up my cup to create the most horrendous cup of coffee in existence. Stale grounds? Roaches? _Greeeeat._

“Tell me you’re not gonna drink that…” begged MacCready.

“No!” I wailed. “Bean, you’ve gotta clean this thing out once in a while! This is-” I peeked inside of the crack, the one between the coffee machine and the wall. Tilting the machine aside, my eyes shot open. A jillion little eyes. A million jillion legs. I could _hear_ them; a squishing, scuttling symphony. 

I gave a big, contradictory smile, dropped the machine back into its original position, and said, “Welp. That was a mistake.” I snatched the closest sill and flung my head out of the glassless window, dropping my head over the side.

Silence.

“Sunshine?”

I held a finger up. “Shhh.”

Hancock and MacCready waited patiently. So did I. Once I was absolutely sure I wasn’t going to up my guts, I took a deep breath and hit reset.

“Morning, guys. Wow, this weather sure is swell! You know, I’m not really feelin’ coffee today. You know what sounds great, though? A Nuka Quantum! Why, what’s this?” I rummaged through my pack and pulled out a glowing bottle. “A ha! Just the thing I needed not to end it all! Gee wiz!” 

I did my usual trick: rested the bottle against the counter and slammed my fist down. The bottlecap popped off and rocketed into the air. I even caught it. I followed up my little trick with a wily grin, tucked the cap into MacCready’s santa hat, gave the mayor a swift slap on the ass, brought the bottle to my lips, and walked out the door.

-

Hancock and MacCready scoured the Outlet. Most of the Mr. Handys were inert, stripped for parts and laid to rest in useless heaps on the ground. But maybe Sprocket had what I was looking for. 

“You know, like a cleaning kit?” explained MacCready while Hancock nudged one of the lifeless robots with his boot. “Or some polish? Or…oh, I don’t know. Hey, boss!”

“What?” I glanced up from my pipboy, brushing a long strand of brunette hair away from my face. I hadn’t even bothered to pull it back. Today, _I_ was Santa; brown-haired Santa with his beard and his hair and his recent bit of pudge that he wasn’t super thrilled about.

“What exactly am I asking for?”

“Uh, a cleaning kit, or I dunno, some polish?”

“Ugh! I already asked for that! Can you, oh, I dunno, _elaborate please?_”

I rolled my eyes and shut my screen off. “I have this friend, Codsworth, who’s a Mr. Handy. What should I get him for Christmas, Sprocket?”

-

“Really?” asked MacCready. 

I tucked the bowler hat into my pack. “Eh, I can see it. He’s a dapper dude.”

“You’d think he’d want some flamer fuel or something…”

“That was my first thought too, but hey, hats are cool. I mean, look at your hat. Super cool.”

“Are you kidding?” he laughed. “Half the reason this hat is red is because of all the blood it’s collected this week. I’ve been wearing it for days. It needs a serious wash, boss.” He looked over his shoulder toward the bowling alley. “Bowling, huh? I’ve heard about that sport. You’re supposed to roll a ball down some lanes and knock over some pins. Weird. Mind if we give it a try?”

“Eh, you two ago ahead. I’m gonna get breakfast going.”

“Back at the shack?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? This place looks kinda fun.”

“Yeah. Could use another Quantum before we head back to Kingsport anyway. Think I’ve got everything we need for Christmas. Now it’s just a matter of making the house presentable.”

“Well, if you say so. Be careful down there by the water, okay?” MacCready wrapped his hands around my neck, stood on his toes, and kissed my cheek. And I admit, I actually flushed. “I love you. Stay safe.” He spun around and began his walk over to the bowling alley. “C’mon Hancock! Let’s go bowling so I can finally kick your butt at something!” 

“Sure,” said the ghoul, but his eyes said, _what the hell?_ I could tell he was confused by our little exchange. I knew that look. That was jealousy. I almost stopped him before he could join MacCready. Better to talk now than let it build up and explode at Christmas, right? But before I could say anything, Hancock looked at me, shook his head, and said, “Sorry. I’m cool,” before joining MacCready.


	41. Love Shack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate gets caught having a "moment" to himself. Hancock and MacCready take over instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Just Nate, MacCready, Hancock, and a dog. Kidding! Sort of. Well there _is_ a dog, but...

I confess, I was a little hungry, but what I really longed for was a moment of peace and quiet so I could deal with the problem I’d acquired three days ago: my hard-on.

I remember waking up to MacCready gasping and coming after an enticing dream, followed by the merc going down on me and my being unable to get off. Then we ended up at Fallon’s where I watched him cum _again_ while I couldn’t. That little show of his made me hard as hell. But then his mood took a turn for the worst. Regardless of how terrible that night was, or my persistent migraine, I still needed release. Then Hancock and MacCready gave me this massage that felt great but _really_ worked me up, and I still hadn’t taken care of myself. Now was my chance.

I got a fire going, tossed some canned mirelurk into our cooking pot, left it over the flames and followed the trail up the cliff, climbing onto the roof from the ledge. There was a chair up there, too, so I could sit and look over the apocalyptic snowscape while I untucked myself from my pants.

I was already semi-erect. Guess that’s what happens when you go _three frigging days without coming._ I started myself off with a soft couple of strokes and let my thoughts wander.

Sometimes I thought about Hancock, but today, I couldn’t stop thinking about MacCready. Specifically, the way he tried so hard some mornings to please me, disappearing under the covers and making me gasp when a warm sensation spread over my dick. His mouth felt amazing. 

I tightened my grip and pumped myself again. 

When I looked under the covers, I would see a messy, blond bun bobbing while a pair of hot lips clasped around me. I would watch him suck from my base back up to my tip, leaving a wet sheen behind before sliding my erection back into his mouth and doing it all over again.

Another pump, then another, this time with a little groan. 

I remembered the first time _I_ blew _him_, a year or so ago, down by the Glowing Sea. Neither of us expected it to happen, but I was so glad it did. I still thought about it sometimes, the way I woke up surprised and confused and honestly, a little hard myself once I felt his cock pushed up against me like that. How long had he thought about me like that in secret? What thoughts ran through his head once he realized I had rolled over to suck him off? How did he feel the first time I took him into my mouth? I still remembered the way he moaned, this hot, surprised little gasp, followed by nervous silence until he trembled and came.

I was taking my time, leaning back and gripping the middle of my shaft. I felt so good, so happy to finally have the opportunity to masturbate in peace. The thirst for release pulled at my groin. Nobody was out there, so why not enjoy myself? I ran my palm over my head and back down with a filthy moan. “You like when I suck your cock, baby?” I said aloud. I knew he did. If he didn’t he wouldn’t have cum down my fucking throat like that.

Next, I thought back to the time I took his dick at the prep school. I had made him cum all over himself the night before just by grinding on him. He was so easy to please. But the look on his face once he realized I was letting him screw me…oh god. He was so into it, even going so far as to egg me on. I remembered every single word that spilled out of that dirty mouth of his. _“Come on, boss. I wanna hear you **moan.**_” 

I did right then and there, moaned out loud all alone by the lake, quickening my pace.

I liked hearing him, too. Like how I sucked his dick on the boat while Hancock rimmed his asshole and he quivered and groaned and came in my mouth. Boy, he really liked doing that. Or how I fingered him back at Taffington – his first prostate stimulation – and he couldn’t hold back for five seconds before ruining his boxers. And do you know how badly I wanted to fuck him when he was behind that glass? He was begging, _begging_ for me to suck him off, but teasing him was too good. 

MacCready was so attractive when he was aroused. I loved the way his cheeks got all red, and his dick too. Even saying the right words or making the right noises flicked a switch in him and made him hard. It was only a matter of time before MacCready would have a bulge in his pants and need to grind on something or touch himself, otherwise, he was miserable, begging for any sort of attention and release. I needed it too. So, so, _so_ bad.

“Come on R.J.,” I panted, the hot, repetitive swell of release building. “You’re doing so good, baby…there we go…” I groaned. “Oh, fuck…I’m so close…you make me so hard…ohhh…that’s right, make me cum baby, make-”

A hideous snarl erupted from somewhere off to my right. I gripped my dick. My eyes flung wide, wide open. 

“Oh shit.”

A hulking, mutant hound was barreling right for me. I knew I had about two seconds to figure out what I was gonna do about it. Well, either that, or come up with some poignant last words. Did I really have time to react? Was I going to die like that? Cock in my hands next to a lake whose name I could neither spell nor pronounce? 

I scrambled to my feet. Oh god. It was _right_ there. Well shiiiiieeeeet. I was about to be tackled off the roof, wasn’t I? Maybe it’d bite down on my jugular and I’d die quickly. Wouldn’t that be nice? Then maybe some irradiated dog wouldn’t be trotting around the Commonwealth with a guy’s ripped-off arm, fingers in rigor, clasped around his own six inches. The last thought I had before I died was, heh, how would I react if Dogmeat back in Sanctuary brought back a guy’s arm and dick? Ha! Well, goodbye cruel-

_BLAM!_

The hound collapsed, brains and meat everywhere. “Wh-what the?” I spun around and squinted. Just over the hill, way, _way_ over by the Galleria, the tiny silhouette of a man popped up holding a rifle. “MacCready?” Two thoughts ran through my head, the first being, wow, he just saved my life. The second being-

-

“Were you _watching_ me?!”

“Uh…maybe.” He blushed.

Hancock snickered.

“You were really going to town, boss. And uh…honestly, it was kinda…” 

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. There was a tent in his pants big enough to sleep me _and_ Hancock. Like I said, he was easy. Part of me was flattered, and the other part of me was humiliated. I guess a little humiliation wasn’t going to stop my raging boner, though, because I still had a tent of my own going on. 

I sighed and leaned against the shack’s single support beam. “It’s been three days…” I confessed. I pulled myself back out of my unbuttoned pants and gave myself a stroke. Talk about blue balls. So much blood had rushed to my dick I was surprised there was enough left in my brain to hold a conversation. I needed to unload and I needed it days ago.

“Bet we can help with that,” said Hancock. “Mind if I take over?”

“By all means,” I said. 

“MacCready, siddown on that mattress and pull down your pants.”

MacCready shrugged. He set his bag down, unfastened his pants and buckle, and did what Hancock had instructed him to do, leaning with his back against the shack wall. Good god he was hard already. How did he do that? How was he able to just…?

“Good,” said Hancock before he kicked MacCready’s bag aside, crawling down on all fours and sucking the mercenary’s dick. MacCready was quick to lean his head back and sigh, chest heaving, while Hancock took every last inch of him. 

“Uh, hi? I’m over here?” I scoffed.

Hancock kept at it, sucking and sucking and holding out his index finger to tell me to wait my turn. MacCready flung a hand over his middle and rocked his hips into the mayor’s mouth, head lulling from side to side. “Mmm…”

Finally, Hancock gripped MacCready’s length, taking his mouth back with a pop. He flicked his tongue once more over the tip which left MacCready panting with stars in his eyes. 

“C’mere Sunshine. On all fours. Pants…_off._”

I complied. I was still hard as I took my boots and pants off, but jeez it was cold. I tossed my general’s coat aside too, reduced to my leather jacket and upper-body wear. I crawled onto my hands and knees so that Hancock could suck his middle and index fingers and push them against my hole before lowering his head and going back to work on MacCready. 

MacCready liked blowjobs, and I liked anal play, but we reveled in the opposite. What was Hancock’s deal? His fingers slipped inside of me. I mean, it was better than nothing, sure, but I was so jealous of the ghoul’s mouth on MacCready’s cock and every little noise my partner made. I imagined Hancock twisting his tongue around his head, gripping his balls. I shuddered, Hancock’s fingers stretching me out all the while. 

After a minute or two of fingering me and sucking the merc’s dick, Hancock pulled out his fingers, took his lips back from MacCready with another pop, and said: “Fuck him, kid.”

_Ohhhh!_ Okay! That’s where this was going! Yeah, uh, I could definitely get behind that. Or in this case, on top of that. 

Hancock grabbed my hips and helped position me over MacCready. The merc was facing my back. Hancock grabbed MacCready’s length and helped him line it up with my asshole. It took a little bit of doing, but finally, MacCready was slipping inside of me reverse-cowboy with me on top, slowly starting to ride him. 

MacCready wasn’t huge or anything, but anal was anal, and it hurt. Fortunately, I liked a little pain with my pleasure. I rocked my hips, adjusting to MacCready’s rigidity. 

“Oh…that’s really good…” he moaned.

I chuckled and ground down on him just to elicit another noise from him. He offered several, one with each rock of my hips. Hancock was still gripping them, guiding them, pushing me down on MacCready until my ass was colliding with his balls. I must have been heavy, but he seemed to be enjoying it, groaning every time my thick ass squished his skinny frame. 

I heard MacCready’s head hit the wall as he threw it back. “Mmm, boss…”

That’s what I lived for. Hearing him call me boss, trapped under my weight, reduced to a moaning, little mess. Jesus, even if _he_ came and I didn’t, I’d be alright. I’d be frustrated, but it’d be worth it. But I was gonna cum. I knew as soon as Hancock bent over and started to suck my dick.

“Jesus Christ!” I wailed.

And to make it even better, MacCready wrapped his arms around my middle, the sleeves of his sweater, brushing against my jacket. It was so cozy, so sexy, R.J. holding me while he fucked my ass, trapped under my weight, driving himself closer and closer to the edge. He was driving me there too, although ‘forcing me there’ would have been more accurate. There was no stopping it. I was gonna lose it.

Hancock’s tongue swirled around my head and snaked down my shaft until I was trapped too, trapped all the way at the back of his throat. Ohhh, fuck, I loved when he deep-throated me like that. No games today! I was a man who needed to cum, and after three days of hell, the men I loved were making damn sure I got what I needed. 

They were both right there, serving me, working me from either end until I was left gasping and sweating; MacCready buried underneath me while I slammed down on his cock; Hancock _deeply_ invested in sucking my poor, aching dick.

I almost had to use the safe word, because Jesus, MacCready was hard! He was so deep inside of me that my stomach hurt. It was actually pretty painful. I would have had to stop if Hancock hadn’t been counterbalancing the pain, but boy was he, and that perfect combination of agony and bliss was forcing me to endure oncoming waves of orgasm that I could not have stopped even if I tried. I wasn’t even making sounds anymore, just…_forced_ there, forced to take it. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, fuckfuckfuck-

“Well, that’s gonna do it,” I said in a voice I realize now was comically monotonous. I closed my eyes. Three days…_THREE FUCKING DAYS_ worth of cum rocketed down the ghoul’s throat. FUUUCK YES! FINALLY! “Oop! Kay! Buffout!” Hancock pulled back and swallowed, and I rolled off of MacCready onto my back. 

“You okay?” asked the ghoul, hovering over me and wiping his mouth. 

“Oh yeah,” I grinned. “Little dizzy is all. Think I’ll pass on the post-cum torture today.”

“You got it. Cigarette?”

“Please.”

Hancock and MacCready lit one up and tucked it between my lips. Ahhh. Perfecto.

“You,” said Hancock, glancing at the merc. “Still hard?”

“Practically dying,” he laughed.

“Think I got somethin’ for that. Wanna watch, Sunshine?”

I exhaled smoke, still lying on my back next to the mattress without pants. “I mean, the Christmas shopping is done, so I’ve got time.”

First, Hancock took out his handkerchief and some purified water. He dabbed the cloth and started to clean MacCready’s dick. I don’t think I was gross or anything, but if Hancock was gonna use his mouth again then yeah, I would have done the same. Rimming was one thing, but post-anal blowjobs? Neither of us were fans. 

MacCready seemed to be enjoying himself. Water wasn’t a great lubricant, but the cool cloth against his red, hard dick must have felt like heaven, because he was biting down on his lip and sighing, rocking his hips into the cloth. 

“How flexible are you?” asked Hancock.

“Depends. We talking caps? Because my price is non-negotiable.” 

“Oh, you think you’re cute.” He was. “Well I guess I’ll just have to find out myself, killshot…” 

Hancock set the hanky aside and grabbed his cock, licking from bottom to top. “Ah…” MacCready squirmed. Hancock then gave his dick a couple of tugs, eliciting a similar response, before roughly jerking the merc’s pants around his boots and shoving his legs into the air so that his knees met his own chest. His throbbing cock stuck out like a pillar between his cheeks. He was obviously close.

The ghoul spit on his two fingers – those two devilish little fingers – and lined them up with MacCready’s ass. 

Hancock held MacCready’s legs against his chest and pushed inside of him so hard that I thought it might have hurt him. At first, MacCready gave a hard yelp, but then, his erection twitched. “Oh crap Hancock! You know I can’t last like this!”

He gave a rumble of a laugh in return. “I know.”

I watched the mayor move his fingers in and out of MacCready. Each thrust sank deeper and deeper until the mercenary’s cracked wails indicated his prostate was being toyed with.

Just when I thought MacCready was about to lose it, Hancock wrapped his spare arm around the kid’s legs and jerked him down onto his back so that his head hit the mattress. He squeezed MacCready’s legs all the way up against his chest. The sudden shift of his weight caused his cock to bounce from between his legs onto his stomach, untouched and dribbling precum onto his black sweater. He was so pretty.

Hancock kept at it, curling his fingers inside of MacCready until his eyes were closed and he was mewling. “Yeah! Oh god! _Oh god!_ Wait! Ugh! No! My sweater! Not my sweater!”

I laughed, tossed my smoke out the window and rolled over, tugging the bottom of his sweater up just above his nipples. Hopefully it was far enough away. A strand of pre stretched from the middle of his sweater all the way down to that beautiful tuft of dark, blond hair below his navel. His length was hard against his bare stomach.

“Hancock!” he warned, obviously about to lose control. I could always tell when he was. His voice rose an octave, breaths becoming more ragged. Sometimes – like just then – sweat would drip down his handsome, roman nose. He was right there on the edge.

“Look at the boss,” commanded Hancock. 

MacCready obeyed. Two shiny, gunmetal eyes stared up at me. I hovered over him and took his chin in my hands, smiling back down at him.

“Now tell him what you’re about to do.”

There it was. That embarrassed, little flush he got whenever he was forced to be verbal. I could have sworn I was getting hard again. He was so cute, lying there, gasping and teetering right on the edge, completely out of control.

“B-boss…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m…I’m about to cum…”

“Come on, MacCready, _where_ are you gonna cum?” Hancock jerked his fingers against his prostate over and over.

“Oh god! I’m about to cum on myself, boss!” 

He turned his head away from me but I was quick to snatch his jaw and force him back my way. “Look at me. Say it again,” I demanded.

He gasped, voice cracking and straining. “I…I…”

My strong hands clamped down around his jaw like I was going to rip his face apart if he didn’t answer me. “Say it!”

“I…I…I’m gonna cum all over mys-”

Hancock’s fingers slammed inside of him one, final time. That was all it took.

No words came out, just a long, drawn-out whine, a look of stars and lust and surprise, and a hot stream that spilled all over his belly. He always came so much, _way_ more than me or Hancock. It was beautiful watching him spill and spill and spill, dribbling back down his stomach and onto his own crotch. What a mess. 

Hancock worked him until his was spent. “Hold his legs,” he demanded. I didn’t know why I was supposed to do this, but I agreed, taking over for Hancock whose arm was probably getting pretty sore anyway. I understood when he dipped his head between MacCready’s legs and cleaned him up, taking his time, lapping up every ounce of cum he could find. 

“Holy sh…ugh…crap…” breathed MacCready, closing his eyes. “I swear to god, you just sucked the life force out of me or somethin’.”

“How do you think ghouls retain their immortality?” winked Hancock, licking his salty lips.


	42. Christmas at Kingsport (Winter Special!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas! Nate decorates, cooks, and invites the gang over to share gifts and company. Nothing goes wrong!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *_Everything_ goes horribly wrong.

Minus the printing press, I managed to get all of my companions’ gifts to Kingsport. It took more time finding wrapping paper that wasn’t moldy and waterlogged than finding the actual gifts. But you know what? Me and MacCready and Hancock, we _did_ it! Sort of. Okay, it wasn’t “Christmas” paper, per se, it was “It’s a Girl” gift wrap and all of it was the same color as liquid antacid, but hey! Wrapping paper amirite!

After the Thanksgiving coffee bean debacle, also known as ‘The Incident,’ I settled on having an RSVP-only event at my place. The list was short: me, MacCready, and Hancock, as well as Piper, Nat, Valentine, Cait, Preston, Curie, Codsworth, and Deacon. I only wished I wouldn’t have screwed things up with Danse, because as surly as we was, he was our friend, and it would have been nice to have him around for the holidays. 

I wrote him a letter once, after destroying the Institute. Apologies, mostly. But the only address I had for him was his old recon bunker. I assumed the letter was still sitting there unopened; it had been a long, long time since Danse left the Commonwealth.

But today? Today was about Christmas! The holiday spirit! Working with what you got to make the apocalypse all…holly jolly, I guess! 

MacCready was still wearing that silly Santa hat. Now, there were bullets in the brim. I hadn’t seen him go so long without wearing his beret in his life. Hancock even managed to score a Santa coat, which didn’t look too different from his usual one. MacCready set to work hanging up a string of lights on the banister. Sure, only three or four of the bulbs worked, but hey! Christmas lights! Hancock nailed a wreath onto the door. It may have been made of driftwood and brine, decorated with empty jet inhalers and dormant landmines, but a wreath was a wreath! If only the INSANE rainstorm wasn’t trying to whisk it away into the ocean. I heard the mayor hammering down the fifth nail. It’d be fine! Christmas would be fine!

“Got it!” hollered MacCready, and plugged in the lights. Three orange bulbs and a red one lit up. Ew. Worst colors ever. Like a gummy worm. 

“That’s…pretty?” I cringed, placing the final, pink gift in the stack under the mutfruit bush. It was already wilting. The glowing jar of radiation on top was weighing it down. “Hey, would you check on the tarberry cider? I think I left it on the stove next to Hancock’s present, you know, the other pot with the-”

A buzz. A flicker. A pop. All of the lights in the house went out. 

“Why?” I asked. 

“I don’t know,” shrugged MacCready.

“Not asking you.”

“Then who?”

“God? I’d better go check on the generator. The cider?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll take care of it, boss. Hey Hancock, how’s that wreath coming along?”

I glanced out the window. A heavy gale picked up and a skinny ghoul in a Santa costume went flying across the deck with a “WUAGH!” and a _THUD!_ “I’m cool.”

I headed down to the boathouse. Thank god I was heavier than Hancock because those gales were savage. The ocean was not happy; waves upon waves exploding against the rocks. The air was freezing. I hoped my companions were going to make it alright. They’d arrive any second. 

“Oh, great,” I sighed. A big, fat mirelurk had invited itself into my workshop and snipped one of the copper coils on my generator. “You see what you did, crabby? You ruined Christmas.”

The thing hissed.

“Nyuh!” I kicked it off of the dock with a splash. Can’t believe that worked and that I didn’t get pinched. Those things weren’t small. Maybe I was just getting fat. Meh. 

I spent the next ten minutes digging through my workbench for some spare copper. I had just enough to fashion another coil. I couldn’t believe it worked, but it did – barely, with a lot of duct tape and elbow grease – and by the time my first three guests arrived, the lights were back on. Success!

Piper was a mess. Black hair whipped across her face like a veil, caked to her cheeks because of the rain. So much for light, fluffy snow. She stuck her tongue out, going _pbt pbt pbt_ and pulled the hair out of her mouth. She was wearing Valentine’s old, ratty coat, and for the first time, I saw Nick without it on. 

Interesting. The Institute had built him with the muscled arms of an average, athletic male. One of them was mostly skeletal, poking out from under that t-shirt of his, but the other gave him quite the flattering figure. Whoa. Wait. Was I checking out Valentine?

“What’s the matter?” asked Nick. I was staring at his chest. His arms. His beefy, artificial arms. Oh no, was I blushing?

“Nothing! You uh…have arms.”

He raised a brow. “So I’ve been told. Now, you gonna let us in, or are we celebrating Christmas on the porch?”

“Gosh, yes, Sorry, Valentine. Things got a little hectic around here this morning. Let me know if you find my marbles. Think I might have lost them somewhere between the dysfunctional generator and the irradiated tree.” The synth chuckled and I stepped aside. Nat ran in between Nick and Piper. Each of them grabbed her by the hand and hoisted her through the doorway like parents do with their kids. Huh. _Interesting…_ Nick and Piper? Were they…?

“Hey, Mister.”

I glowered. “Natalie.”

“It’s Nat.”

“Nat.”

“Still collecting beans?”

“Not anymore, no thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome! Whoa, are you and MacCready having a baby?!” She ran up to the stack of pink presents, dropping a couple gifts from either Nick or Piper onto the ground near the bush.

“Careful there, kiddo,” said Valentine, plucking the presents from the floor and placing them in the stack.

“Oh my god, _are_ you, Blue?!” exclaimed Piper.

Meanwhile, I laughed. And MacCready laughed. We looked at each other and laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. And then he stopped laughing. And he frowned. And his eyes filled with tears. Oh. Oh no. “Baby,” I said, holding my arms out, but he rejected me.

“I gotta go for a bit,” he said and left the house, abandoning the cider on the stove.

“Urgh!” I hissed, and glanced at Nat, whispering, “You gonna ruin any other holidays?!” 

“_That_ can be arranged…”

Ooooooh that child, I swear to-

“Here,” said Hancock, shoving a glass into my hand. “Drink this. It’ll calm your nerves.”

“What is this, some kind of eggnog?”

“Nah. Vodka.”

“Vodka and…?”

He shrugged. “Vodka.” 

Good enough. I tipped the glass back and drank deeply while Hancock excused himself to find MacCready. Piper offered to set the table which was nice, except I had five, maybe six dishes, and the only food we had was Instamash and some kind of festive, red and green mirelurk loaf. How was it red and green? Don’t ask me. That part wasn’t in the recipe book.

“Knock knock, buddy.”

“Deacon!” Deacon would liven things up. And ooh, who was that? Was that…a _woman_ under his arm? Niiice. You know, Deacon was a grade-A liar, but I feel like there was some truth to what he told me about losing his wife. A kernel, anyway. Besides, I never saw him date or hook up. Attractive guy like that? Deacon really deserved someone. So who did he have underneath his arm?

“Monsieur Nate!” beamed Curie. 

I blinked. “What.”

“Merry Christmas! Oh, and thank you, Monsieur Deacon for keeping me warm throughout our travels. I do so love our adventures!” 

“Totally,” said Deacon, and unleashed Curie. 

Piper and Nick, Deacon and Curie. I wondered how serious either of them were. I mean, Piper and Nick I kind of understood. They were both altruistic, convicted people, both from Diamond City, with successful careers and a knack for helping others. But Deacon and Curie? Eh, a conversation for later. I watched them enter.

That synth sure was pretty. Her hair was getting longer. I wasn’t sure if it was highlights or just her natural color, but her hair was actually a very, very dark brown. It was hard to tell when it was short. Now, it flipped under her chin similarly to Magnolia’s but without the bangs. But whoa, Deacon…

He wasn’t wearing a wig, and it’d obviously been a while since he’d shaved his head. For the longest time, I had no idea what color his natural hair was. Even his eyebrows were always buried behind his sunglasses. But for the first time, he had somewhat of a goatee and some stubble on his head. He was…a ginger? Really? And man, those blue eyes…

He glanced over at the presents. “Whoa! Are you and MacCready having a kid?! Who’s the surrogate? Is it Piper? Or, or are you adopting? Come on, buddy, don’t keep me in suspense!” He gave my shoulder a firm pat.

“Oh come on…” moaned MacCready, hanging in the back door with Hancock’s arm around his waist. There were tears in his eyes again. He was obviously distraught about his son.

“We aren’t having a kid!” I insisted.

Seriously. I was not ready for kids. Not again. Not after MacCready lost Duncan, and especially not after I lost Shaun. 

“Who’s havin’ kids?!” wailed Cait, hanging in the doorway.

“No one!” I wailed back in a mock-Irish accent.

She looked at the pile of presents and saw the one that was obviously shaped like a baseball bat. “If that’s not for me, I’ll steal it from whoever it’s meant for and beat your shins in with it.”

“It’s _obviously_ for you.”

“Aw! You shouldn’t’ve!” 

“No, I really shouldn’t have, you insufferable woman.” I pulled her into a hug.

For a while, things calmed down. Sure, the power went out again, but hey, we had candles! Candles are festive, right? And sure, the mirelurk from earlier found its way into the house and barreled through the pile of presents seeking vengeance, but no biggie! All it did was manage to rip Deacon’s already-stupid-looking sweater in half! At least Curie knew how to sew. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very good at it and kept poking Deacon with her needle. 

“Ow.”

“’Old still!”

“OW!”

“MONSIEUR YOU MUST ‘OLD STILL!”

“OWWW OWW OWW!”

It wasn’t the needle anymore. It was the bubbling tarberry cider that was spilling over the rim of the pot and sizzling against Deacon’s skin. Great. The cider was ruined. Well, unless people wanted to drink piping hot sludge. (Spoiler: they didn’t.)

After Preston arrived, we began opening gifts. I don’t know where Codsworth was, but something told me that if the storm was this bad – and it was getting really, _really_ bad – then he was probably keeping the settlers in Sanctuary Hills safe. Preston had moved to The Castle a long time ago, or I would have asked him about it. At any rate, I buried my negativity and focused on the happiness that came with gift giving.

Piper had to settle for a drawing of her printing press, and once she found out the real deal was waiting for her in Diamond City, she was ecstatic; Nick _loved_ the coat, and he looked great in it too. Fit him perfectly; Preston spent the entire ‘dinner,’ if you could call it that, obsessing over his new stock; Cait looked at her bat the same way I looked at MacCready; Curie squealed with delight once she opened her build-your-own volcano set; and Deacon? He looked ridiculous in that sweater, covered in giant red flowers and a hanging pair of ‘jingle-balls.’ Nailed it.

In terms of the gifts Nick and Piper brought, one of them was a _delicious_, glazed dessert, some kind of sweet loaf, and honestly it saved dinner. Thank god Piper was passionate about food. And the other gift? 

“No.” 

My hands trembled. I was about to cry. “Who got this for me? Piper? Valentine?”

“It was Nat,” smiled Piper. “She did all the research herself. Nick and I reached out to Mayor Hancock, who reached out to Deacon, who provided a couple synth mercenaries to track it down. Curie gave them the stims needed to stay safe, and the rest is history.”

“And those mercenaries are part of one of our settlements, now,” added Preston. “If you want, I can mark it on your map.”

“No, I’m good,” I said, turning the tin over in my hands. American flag. Bald eagle. Guys in power armor with cups. _2075 Presidential Roast._ “I. Oh.” I hugged it. Squeezed it. Wanted to lie it down on the table and fuck it. 

“You’re welcome!” said Nat.

I sat the bag down and looked across the table which we were all squeezed tightly around, seated within an odd assortment of furniture. The ghoul, the merc and I had to pull the couch up which was a little short, but it worked. “Natalie,” I said.

“It’s Nat.”

“Nat. _Thank you._ This is the best gift I have ever, ever received.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d like it. So! Where’s my gift?”

My stomach fell out of my ass. “What?”

“Uh, you _did_ get me a present, right?”

Oh god. No. I most certainly had not. What was I going to do?! And you know, now that I thought about it, part of me wondered if she went through all the trouble just to see the look on my face knowing I didn’t know her that well and wouldn’t have possibly gotten her a gift to begin with. She was _exactly_ that kind of person. Smart, methodical, cunning. Damn it Nat.

All eyes were on me. Even MacCready and Hancock. What was I gonna do? WHAT WAS I GONNA DO? SHE GOT ME THE BEANS, YO!

“Hancock!” I smiled, “You remember where I left Nat’s present, right?”

He narrowed his eyes. 

“You know? In the workshop? And it was super awkward to wrap, so we didn’t wrap it? Be a dear and fetch it for me?”

“’Be a dear?’” chided MacCready with a little laugh.

Hancock chuckled once. “Heh. Alright, _sugar,_ I’ll go get the gift.” He got up and pressed a kiss to my head. At least my hair was clean and pulled back. He left through the back door and headed down to the workshop out in the gales. Whew. Close one. I was sure he’d pick out something creative from my workbench. Maybe I had one of those moon monkey toys left over that I liked to scrap for materials. Meanwhile, all eyes were on me and MacCready.

“So…” said Piper. “You and MacCready…and Hancock.”

MacCready cleared his throat. “Gee, is it hot in here all the sudden? Feels hot in here…”

“Yes,” I answered plainly. “Me. And MacCready. _And_ Hancock. Why?”

“No reason!”

“Use a condom!” sang Curie. “There is a widespread variety of sexually transmitted diseases and infections one may contract from, how do you say…buttsex!”

Now Valentine coughed. Deacon put his sunglasses back on, presumably to cover the flush on his cheeks. “Woof,” he said, and saw himself off to the stove to taste the cider. Judging by the face he made, it wasn’t terribly appetizing. The only person who didn’t look mortified was Cait.

“You havin’ a lotta buttsex, eh, darlins?”

“You know, I’m just gonna open my present!” said MacCready, tearing into the pink wrapping paper.

“Don’t,” I grimaced. “It’s a vibrator.”

“Oh…”

“I think we’re past hiding it at this point. Correct me if I’m wrong.” I took a long, long drink of my second glass of vodka and vodka.

“What’s a vibrator?” asked Nat.

“A vibrator,” explained Piper, “is a…well it’s…uh…well…”

“Is it for sex?”

“Uh, yeah…” gaped the reporter. “How did you-”

“Because grown ups always get really awkward talking about sex. I’m thirteen now, Piper. I found a bag of ten thousand cap coffee, don’t think I won’t find out about sex.”

“Ooookay! Well! Not ready for this talk!” laughed Piper, reaching across the table and snatching my vodka. As soon as she had taken a drink, she spit it right back out into the glass. “Holy sh-”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” said Hancock.

“WHOA!” said everyone else. Well, everyone except Nat.

“Cool! That’s for me?!”

“It’s all yours. Nate really wanted to haul it to Diamond City first, you know, so you can blow up raiders who come through the gate, but you can go play with it outside right now.”

“Blue! Hancock!” hissed Piper. Was that a vein in her forehead? 

“Not like it’s loaded,” said Hancock. “Here.” He tossed the Fat Man on the ground with a thunderous thud. 

“Whee!” clapped Nat, and gripped it by its rear. Well, at least she was hauling it from the right end, I guess. Valentine compliantly held the front door open for her while she hauled it out, inch by inch, grunting the entire time.

“You want some help with that, Nat?”

“No thanks – grrr – Mr. Valentine – rgghh – I got it! I really – urghhh – gotta learn how to – ughhh – fend for myself out here. I’m a strong – ahhh – independent – grrr – woman!” She paused on the porch. “Hello! I’m Nat!”

“Hi!” said a tiny voice. “I’m Shaun!”

Oh.

OH.

OH NOOOOO.

I reached across the table and grabbed the vodka, drinking every last drop. Welp. This was happening.


	43. Son Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loose end wanders over to Kingsport, that loose end being a familiar, synthetic boy. Also, Deacon drinks some 'cider.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor MacCready is about to lose his goddamn mind. This guy can not catch a break.

A preteen boy entered my house with a familiar Mr. Handy trailing behind him. “Hello, Master Nate!” greeted Codsworth. “I tried to stop him from coming in such dreadful weather, but the boy simply wasn’t having it! Better to come along and protect him. After all, he _insisted_ he make the journey.”

“Wait…who is that, boss?” asked MacCready. He looked so confused.

“I’m Shaun! Nate’s my dad. Sort of.” 

“What,” said MacCready. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a rhetorical kind of reaction.

‘All eyes on me’ seemed to be the general theme of the evening. Especially Deacon, who was giving me this really, really bizarre look. Where’d his glasses go? But whatever. I could figure that out in a minute. I cleared my throat and said, “I can explain.”

Everyone waited.

“Oh. Uh. I mean, I _can_ explain, but I’m gonna suck at it…”

“I’m a synth,” explained Shaun. Man. He was obviously my husband’s. I mean, that much was evident based on Shaun’s looks. Shaun was black like my husband. I was white. Obviously my sperm lost the battle. But it wasn’t just Shaun’s looks that reminded me of Norman, it was the way he talked. Norman was a lawyer, and Shaun was sharp as hell. Me? I was a bumbling oaf. But not this kid. “Nate’s biological son Shaun was in charge of the Institute, and he built me, who’s also Shaun, but a synth too. So when my dad Nate took out the Institute, he helped find me a place to live.”

“What,” repeated MacCready. Still not a question.

Yeah. Sooo. Maybe I hadn’t mentioned Little Shaun’s existence to anybody. Maybe I had, you know, completely swept my feelings under the rug. And then found the rug a home in Sanctuary with the Longs. They lost a son, right? Why not have another! Named Shaun! Would it replace their kid? No, but they knew how to raise a boy! I tried the Abernathys, Blake and Connie, but they weren’t interested. Too much heartache after losing their daughter Mary. The Longs though? Marcy and Jun? Perfect. They were skeptical at first, but between them, Codsworth, Mama Murphy and Sturgess, Shaun finally had a place he fit in.

He loved the Longs. They were like an aunt and uncle to him. In fact, Sturgess _was_ “Uncle Sturgess.” And Shaun loved tinkering with old radios and power armor, so they spent tons of time together. Mama Murphy was like his grandma. And he even had Dogmeat there to keep him company. I had obviously done the right thing! I mean, I couldn’t just _take_ him! He wasn’t my son! Not really!

“What.”

“Yes! Okay! I have a son – kind of – who’s also a synth!”

“Shaun is alive?” MacCready swallowed. “You’re Shaun?” He stood up from the table, walking over to my…to Shaun. “You were built to look and act like Nate and Norman’s son?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’m identical, but I dunno, from what I hear, Father was kind of a tool.”

MacCready laughed. There were tears in his eyes. He knelt down to get a better look at him. I already felt like he and Shaun had bonded more than Shaun and I ever had as pseudo-father-and-son. 

“Who are you?” asked Shaun. 

“I’m Robert Joseph MacCready. I’m your dad’s…uh…”

“He’s my partner,” I interrupted.

“So, you’re like, my stepdad?”

MacCready didn’t know what to say. He just knelt there on the floor, quietly crying. You could have heard a pin drop, if not for the crazy weather or Nat shouting obscenities outside. 

“Honestly, Shaun, I don’t know. I just lost my son, so this is all pretty crazy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. MacCready.” He paused. “Well, check this out!” He held out a…thing. It was metal, with a dozen odds and ends sticking out of the sides. I think one of them was a can opener. Another was a shank, maybe. All of its appendages whirred and gyrated at the click of a button. 

“Wow, that’s wild!” laughed MacCready.

“Wanna see what else it can do? Come on! I’ll show you! I don’t have a lot of friends, so it’s really good to meet you. But let’s disable that live mine on the door first.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘live mine?’” I asked.

“You know, on your wreath.” Shaun opened the door and reached for the mine. Every single person in my house gasped. But with the simple press of a button, Shaun had fully disabled it. “There! Now your house won’t blow up! Come on, Mr. MacCready. Check out _this_ function!”

MacCready gave me a teary-eyed look before he was jerked out the door by Shaun. Once again, every single eyeball in that room was focused on me.

“So that was Shaun.”

“I thought Father disabled him?” questioned Valentine. “That _is_ what you told me, after blowing up the Institute. Did you lie?”

“I…yes.”

“Holy shite!” cried Cait. “He’s way smarter than you! He must be your husband’s.”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth. “But he’s _not_ really my husband’s: he’s a synth. My son died with the Institute. Shaun, the Shaun that’s here right now-”

“Needs paternal affection,” interrupted Codsworth. “Master Nate, if you must place him in Sanctuary while you get your bearings, at least visit the boy every now and again.”

Needless to say, the party sort of died after that. Some of my companions understood, some didn’t. Codsworth lived with Shaun, and obviously saw that he was lacking the kind of attention a boy his age needed. Cait understood that he wasn’t my ‘real’ son, but insisted that he was way cooler than I was, and it would behoove me to get to know him so I could at least stop being such a ‘cunt.’ Her words. Valentine, Preston and Curie were appalled with me. I think Valentine’s reaction hurt the worst; he was always someone I looked up to. And Piper? Piper didn’t know what to say, except, “Oh, Blue…” 

Nick, Piper and Nat took off without the fat man – thank God – and Curie actually left with them since Diamond City was so close to Vault 81. Cait set her bat over her shoulder and offered to walk Preston back to The Castle to which he accepted.

“Can I stay here tonight?!” asked Shaun, poking his head through the door.

I looked to Hancock who had been uncomfortably silent. He didn’t offer any kind of consolation or indication of what I should do. I didn’t like it. Usually he’d raise a brow, smirk, frown, something, some little, tiny hint as to what he was feeling. It’s how we communicated half the time. But now, his face was blank. And Deacon, sitting over there with his eyes wide like saucers, was no help. What was his deal? He hadn’t spoke up since trying the cider. I looked to Codsworth instead. Somehow, that Mr. Handy’s ‘look’ spoke volumes. I’m not sure if it was his ‘gait,’ if you could call it that, or the way his lenses constricted, but I could tell he wanted me to do the right thing.

I sighed. “You can stay.”

“Hooray!” Shaun rushed back outside and resumed what looked like a game of tag with MacCready. 

“Well then, I shall see myself out, sir.”

“Wait.” I handed Codsworth a package. He didn’t have hands, so I had to open it for him, but finally, I sat a hat on his head. “Ah. A hat. Thank you, sir.” Wow. That was some grade-A compliance. Fun. He was noticeably mad at me for basically abandoning Shaun. Somehow, he tipped his new hat with one of his appendages and floated off into the storm. 

The house was dark and quiet, lit only by candles. I turned to face Hancock, who was still sitting on the couch pulled up at the table, and Deacon, whose mouth was hanging open like a fish.

“Dude, what is _with_ you?” I asked.

“Honestly?” said Deacon. “I feel like I’m tripping balls.”

“Why?”

Then I remembered. I remembered everything. Hancock’s gift. That chem cocktail I whipped up on the stove, right next to the tarberry cider. I rushed over to the stove and took a look. MacCready remembered to turn the burner off on the cider like I asked him to, but I had stupidly left the boiling chems on. They had bubbled over and burned Deacon earlier, and I guess he thought _that_ was the cider.

“I think Deacon just drank part of your Christmas present, Hancock.”

“You got me a gift?”

“Yeah man! I worked hard, too! Been saving chems for a month.”

“Whoa. That a cocktail?”

“Yeah, a cocktail _this_ moron just took a sip of!”

“Wait…what’s in it?” asked Deacon. “Is it fire? And sex? And fear? Because it feels like all three. Heat! Passion! Monsters!”

“What kind of monsters?” asked Hancock, egging him on. 

“Oh man…” said Deacon. “Bad. Bad. So bad.”

“Wanna take a load off, man? Maybe sober up?”

“No. I wanna go out in the rain and taste it. I want to taste every, single drop. Maybe I can catch every raindrop before the boss finds all of those bobbleheads.”

“Hey,” I objected, “I’ll find the rest of them. They’re out there.”

“Sure, boss,” said Deacon. Hancock got up and led him upstairs, promising that lying down on the bed would totally, totally help him taste all the raindrops. Meanwhile, I set to work on getting all of my furniture back in the right place. The couch went back, the chairs, everything, until I finally collapsed on the big, red sofa.

I stared across the living room. Ho lee shit. Active landmines on the door. No electricity. Mirelurks. Heavy weapons lying on the lawn. A chem cocktail brewing over the stove. This was no place for a kid. What the hell was I thinking?

Footsteps thudded down the steps. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Hancock took a seat next to me. “So, what’s in that cocktail?”

“Jet. Psycho. Buffout. Ultrajet. Megajet. Superduperjet.”

“Well now you’re just making up chems.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. But seriously, there are at least four flavors of mentats in there, and something called ‘Day Tripper.’ I still don’t rightfully know what that is. Figured you’d be game, though.”

“Damn straight. I’ll wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Maybe I’ll freeze it. Stick it into an ice cube tray next time it snows. Make a chemsicle.”

I gave a weary, little laugh and rubbed my eyes. Then, a strong, rugged hand settled against my shoulder.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“What’s there to say, Hancock? I’m so fucked up I can’t even take care of my…of Shaun.”

“Notice you aren’t calling him your son. How ‘bout we start there?”

“He’s not. Not really. Father…_Shaun,_ the real Shaun, created him. He was sick, Hancock. He wasn’t a good person.”

“You afraid the kid’s gonna turn out like that?”

“Honestly? Maybe. Maybe not, though. He’s a great kid. Sharp as a tack, and funny, too. But I just feel so detached, like…like I’m not capable of loving him. He can be the greatest kid in the world, John, but he’s not the one me and my husband intended to have.”

“And you and the kid both know it. Nobody’s under the illusion that he ain’t your biological son. He doesn’t have to be for you to care about him.”

“I know. I mean, even Shaun wasn’t ‘biologically’ mine. My husband’s, yes, but not mine.”

“You still loved him though.”

“’Course.”

“So why’s this any different? Because he was built? Because you’re afraid he isn’t exactly like the son you had before?”

“If I’m being honest…yes. But there’s no way of knowing _what_ the original Shaun was like when he was this age. I only ever knew him as an infant and as a man.” I sighed. “And now I’ll never know for sure.”

“No. You won’t. Your son turned out to be a real asshole, and I’m sorry for that. But this kid? He ain’t like that. ‘Least, he doesn’t have to turn out that way. And mark my words, you keep him around good people, whether it’s you or MacCready or those folks you got up in Sanctuary, and he’ll turn out just fine.”

“I feel like I dumped him there.”

“Did you?”

“Well…no. Not intentionally, anyway. I could have just stuck him with the other synths I guess. But…”

“But you didn’t. You found him a home with loving parents, didn’t you?” 

“I tried. It’s less of a parent-son relationship than I was hoping for and more of an entire community raising a kid. It’s better than nothing, but it’s not good enough.”

“You know,” said Hancock, “just because you aren’t ready to settle down and raise a kid doesn’t mean tomorrow won’t be different. Just tell the kid how you feel. He’s what? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? Let him know why you’re hesitant. Be honest. And hey, maybe go visit him once in a while. It won’t kill ya. And I’m sure MacCready would go with you.”

“You really think so?”

“’Course.”

“And you think I deserve a kid like Shaun?” I looked out of the window. It was getting dark, still raining, but I could tell MacCready would have endured any amount of rain just to play with Shaun for five more minutes. They looked happy.

“Ain’t about what you deserve, Sunshine, it’s about what Shaun deserves. Shaun, and MacCready.”

“MacCready?”

“If you two love each other – and don’t think I didn’t hear him tell you he loved you the other day – then you know damn well he’s gonna wanna spend time with Shaun.”

Hancock was right. Fine, though. I could deal with it. I’d make it work. Anything for R.J. 

“And Sunshine? I’m a people person, and I can tell you right now, MacCready is standing right there on the precipice of ‘okay’ and ‘really not fucking okay.’ You handle this with tact. Listen to him. Do what he needs you to do. Got it?”

“I believe you. And…I will. Thanks, John.”

“Anytime.” 

Silence.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

He glanced over at me. The candlelight flickered in his black eyes. Every crevice of his face was obscured with dark shadows, laugh lines and ridges glowing in the yellow light. He looked happy. Sad. Overjoyed. Disappointed. 

“Please say something,” I begged.

Hancock’s lips parted. Please. Say something. Anything. “I-”

“Whew!” MacCready barreled through the door with Shaun in tow. “It is _wet_ out there!”

Damn it. Oh well. Another time.

I chuckled. “That’s how rain works. Hancock, would you please wrap up the ‘leftovers’ on the stove?” I gave him a sly nudge. 

“Yeah. Then I’m gonna head back to Goodneighbor.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” whined MacCready.

“Yeah. Suspect you three need to have some time to yourselves. Well, you four.”

“Four?” MacCready quirked a brow.

I sighed. “Deacon’s in our bed.”

“…”

“Don’t ask.”


	44. Settling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready have a serious talk about their future together and their future with Shaun. Hancock confesses something to Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I _still_ haven't decided between Covenant or Home Plate for a potential homestead. Thoughts?

The next two and a half days were sunny and spent playing with Shaun, getting to know him, tinkering in the workshop, adventuring to nearby buildings, and everything in between. He was an amazing kid. Smart. Passionate. Great sense of humor. The works. I had never seen MacCready happier. He was so happy, in fact, that we hadn’t even sat down to have dialogue about what had gone down. It was like he wanted to milk every minute out of Shaun’s time.

Finally, Codsworth came back to check up on him. I apologized to Codworth and told him I’d be over to Sanctuary Hills to visit soon, that I just needed a little time to think. “I believe young Shaun would like that,” said the Mr. Handy. MacCready and I said our goodbyes and returned indoors. I flipped the multi-tool in my hand, a gift that Shaun had made for me, and pocketed it.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Are you?” 

Neither of us knew what to say. MacCready looked out the window. Shaun turned around and waved, adjusting the green beret with the bullets inside the brim. 

“Man, that thing is way too big for him,” said the merc, running his fingers through his hair.

I looked over at him. He was scruffy. Bags under his eyes. And I could swear there was a wrinkle or two I hadn’t noticed before. He looked…older. 

“Eh. He’ll grow into it,” I assured him.

He glanced at the ground in thoughtful silence. Christ, I was uncomfortable. I considered busying myself with something. Maybe I could wash a dish, move some furniture around, anything. But finally he said, “Were you ever gonna tell me about him?”

I gave him a pleading look.

“Come on, Nate.” He sounded exhausted. “Just be honest with me. I’d rather skip all the anger and resentment and get right down to brass tacks. So be real with me. Were you gonna tell me about Shaun?”

“I don’t know, MacCready.”

“I mentioned having kids with you. So why not him? Do you not consider him to be your son because he’s a synth?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Well…” I shifted on the spot. “You told me you wanted to settle back down, then you sorta…retracted that statement.” MacCready nodded. He was considering my side of it. “And Shaun? Well…I really struggle with my feelings. Shaun, _Father,_ turned out to be insane. You know how crazy he was. If this Shaun was built to be the same, then…” I shook my head. “I don’t think he’ll turn out that way, but still. I can’t get over the fact that he was built. That he’s not my human son. He’s mine, and not mine, and that scares me. I don’t know what to do, Robert.”

He didn’t tell me not to call him that. He just nodded. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know where you stand.”

“Well, what about you? How do you feel about Shaun?”

“Well, lemme tell you, if I got a second chance to be with Duncan, I’d take it, synth or not. I don’t see how Shaun’s any different. At any rate, thanks for letting me spend time with him.”

“You can visit him whenever you want, you know.”

“Yeah, but will you go with me? Are you ready for that?”

I chuckled wearily. “Honestly? No. But I’m ready to _get_ ready. I can’t raise him right now, MacCready. This place is falling apart. And even if I had a proper homestead, I’m just not _ready,_ you know?”

“I do know,” he answered. “Why do you think I didn’t go back home to Duncan sooner? My lifestyle isn’t exactly safe. But a man’s gotta make caps, right? At least that’s the excuse I tell myself…”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” He looked into my eyes and I placed my hands on his shoulders.

“Let’s move out of Kingsport. Let’s…let’s find a place and move in with Shaun.”

“Are you serious? Boss…Nate, we’re…” He stopped and considered it. “Well…I mean, I guess if someone else was around to help out. When you and I go adventuring, sometimes we’re gone for days, weeks even. That’s no way to raise a son. Between you and me, I think he’s better off at Sanctuary for now.” 

“Totally agree. But don’t you want to settle down?”

“How is that gonna work, anyway?” he asked. “You, me and Hancock?” 

“MacCready, what you and I have is special. And I know you and Hancock have a unique relationship that you and I don’t share; hell, Hancock and I have a bond that between the two of us, too. But you and me? Come on. Let’s pick out a house. Fix it. Plant crops. Raise a kid. Bang the mayor of Goodneighbor. Let’s do it all.”

“You wanna be slutty farmer dads?”

“Polyamory is not slutty.”

“Sure, but you and Hancock are pretty slutty.” He grinned.

“You know what you little shit?” I smiled back.

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. You in?”

“I dunno…” He placed his hands over mine, still settled on his shoulders. “It seems too good to be true, you know. Then again, I am _really_ sick of Kingsport.”

“Shaun liked the boat.”

“Shaun thought it was funny when ‘Mr. MacCready’ turned green like a mirelurk _on_ the boat.”

“Because it was funny.”

“Urgh. Why do I keep letting you take me out on the water?”

I laughed and pulled him into a hug. We took our time, arms wrapped around each other, nestled in a snug embrace. Finally, he pulled back.

“Tell you what. Let’s just start slow. I like where things have been going between us, and I don’t want to rush it. Let’s find a better place to move and keep adventuring. And we can go and visit Shaun sometimes. Is that okay?”

“God, yes. Though I gotta admit, I’m gonna miss this place. It’s got character.”

“Hey!” squawked Deacon. He descended the stairs with a heavy thud. Wow, that stubble sure did grow fast. Guess he shaved his chest, too, because there was a flare of red hair that was just starting to grow in between his nipples. Was he putting on weight? And why was he only wearing boxers with hearts on them? “We’re out of Sugar Bombs.”

“You say that like they’re upstairs…” I pointed out with caution.

“Oh, yeah, I may have hoarded a couple boxes.”

“Did you clean up your ‘nest?’” I asked.

“My detox nest? What, you don’t wanna keep it around to remember me by?” He scratched his belly. 

“We’re moving,” said MacCready.

“What, like, right this second? Aww, but I wasn’t done listening to all of your holotapes and having the spins for two days straight.”

-

“Ready?” asked Deacon, holding up a clipboard. He was dressed like a scientist. Why? Either way, he sat at the head of the table with MacCready and I facing each other on either side. Today was the day we decided where we were moving to. Or so we thought.

“Ready,” we said simultaneously.

“Alright. I’ve got a comprehensive list of Minutemen settlements, starting with the letter A. So. Ahem. How would you feel about living at…” he glanced down at the sheet, “Abernathy Farm?”

“The Abernathys already live there,” I explained as though it weren’t obvious.

“Boston Airport?”

“Oh, sure, let’s go live in the wreckage of the boss’s mistakes amidst the carnage of war,” laughed MacCready.

“Whoa, easy,” I said. Ouch.

“Bunker Hill? Okay, that’s a stupid one. Unless you like living with caravaneers and sleeping with brahmin. How about The Castle?”

“God no,” groaned MacCready. In fact, just skip every settlement that smells like mirelurks.”

“Covenant?”

We exchanged glances. Huh. Covenant. It had multiple houses, electricity, defenses, and it was centrally-located. The only catch was that I, you know, murdered everyone there and felt terrible about it. I mean sure, _they_ attacked first when Nick Valentine and I unveiled their little synth-torture operation, but still. Bad air about the place.

“What’s next?” I asked, wanting to list all of our options.

“Well,” said Deacon, “if you don’t count anywhere on the ocean, already settled, or full of corpses…Home Plate? Wait, how’d that get in there? That’s not even a settlement. That’s just some house for sale in Diamond-”

“Diamond City…” mused MacCready, scratching his scruffy chin.

“What? You actually like the idea?”

“Think about it. Good location, surrounded by merchants, electricity…a school…”

School, huh? I hadn’t even considered that. Maybe Diamond City wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Well, I’m not giving it a hard no, but I’m really not a fan of their politics.”

“Oh, you mean like, if Hancock comes over to visit?”

“Yeah. Or Curie. Synths aren’t ‘illegal,’ per se, but people in Diamond City are pretty stuck up.”

“Well what’s anyone gonna do about it? McDonough’s dead. Last I heard they were trying to elect a new mayor.”

“Oh god, who?” I asked.

MacCready shrugged. “Beats the heck outta me.”

“At any rate, what’s next on the list, Deacon?”

“Hangman’s Alley?”

“Eugh. Smells like garbage,” said MacCready.

“Outpost Zim..Zamon…Zanzibar…” 

“Man, that place is at the ass…er, butt-end of nowhere under an overpass. _Hard_ pass,” insisted MacCready.

“Starlight Drive-In? Sunshine Tidings Co-Op?”

The merc tilted his head to the side. “Hey, I kinda like that idea.”

“Me too, actually. What do you like about it?”

“I dunno, just seems kinda cool. Living at an actual drive-in theater. Maybe we can even get the screen up and running.”

“Oh, I was talking about the co-op.”

“No way!” he shouted. “That creepy robot lives there, Dr. Cockfeels, or whatever its name is, and knowing you, you’ll wanna keep him around!”

“Hey, don’t you talk smack about the doctor! Besides, Starlight sucks balls.”

“What? Why?”

“Where are we gonna sleep? In the diner? In that tiny, little storage room behind the screen?”

“How about on top of the screen?” beamed MacCready.

“You know how I feel about heights.”

“And you know how I feel about boats, but lo and behold, here we are!”

“That’s different! I already lived here before you showed up again!”

“Well it’s not my fault you have garbage taste in real estate!”

“The mortgage was cheap!”

_”The mortgage!_ Bullsh…er, bullcrap!” Was he covering up his curses again?

“It’s waterfront property, Robert, and the homeowner’s association is really lenient!” 

“Call me that again, I dare you! And what even _is_ a homeowner’s association?!”

“’Sup.”

Everyone turned toward the door. It flung open and a familiar ghoul stood in the frame. Guess two days back in town was enough for our illustrious mayor. 

“Oh thank god,” breathed Deacon, standing up from the table and barreling past us. “Your turn to watch them. Make sure they take a nap, because they get cranky around three. Bye, honey.” He pressed a kiss to Hancock’s cheek and left. I didn’t see the man again for weeks. Guess we scared him off.

Hancock tittered and waved before turning back to face us. “You kids playing nice?”

“Yes.” We lied.

“What’s this? You two looking to move out?”

“Well,” explained MacCready, “I’ve been wanting to get outta Kingsport anyway, but we’re thinking about finding a place that might be good for all of us: you, me and Nate…and Shaun.”

“Well look at you,” smiled Hancock, glancing up from the list. “Stepping up, huh?”

“We just spent the last couple days with Shaun,” I told him. “I think it’s best if we all start building toward something a little more stable.”

Hancock pulled up a chair. “Cool. Tell me then,” he sat in it backwards, arms resting against the back, “what’s my place in all this? Paint me a picture.”

“Same as it’s always been,” I said. “Except the house isn’t falling apart, there are fewer crabs, and it can accommodate a preteen synth.”

“Yeah,” added MacCready, “it’s not like our relationship is going to change or anything. At least, we don’t want it to. Why should it?”

“Sure. But what are you gonna tell the kid? I heard him the other night, asking if MacCready was his stepdad. Looks like the two of you are headed in precisely that direction. So what about me?”

“Be whatever you want to be,” I said. “This is 2289, Hancock. People can have multiple partners.”

“Hm. Not real comfortable being a parent, though.”

“So don’t be,” I said. 

The ghoul cocked his head to the side. “Now uncle I can get behind. Like, the crazy uncle who shows up at parties and ruins dinner.”

“So be an uncle.”

“Cool,” smiled Hancock. He looked down and chuckled. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

He stood up, walked around the chair, and snatched me. Arms around my waist. Hands in my hair. Fingers on my scalp. Lips pressed into mine. I closed my eyes and moaned. Oh god, yes. What was this all of a sudden? 

After a passionate kiss and a wily glance from MacCready, Hancock took my face in his hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I love you, too.”


	45. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate is forced to move boxes when instead he'd rather handle a package. Nate gets an interesting letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No priority shipping today, Nate :(

A pair of ghoulish hips bore down against my crotch as we kissed. Hancock was taking his time, tongue exploring my mouth. He squeezed my hips and pushed me against the wall of the lighthouse around the packed boxes. I closed my eyes. His tongue swirled and clashed and he was grinding, gyrating against me. A sudden moan broke past my lips like thunder.

The mayor chuckled. “What’s this?” A single hand scooped the bulge between my legs and I offered another noise, deeper, throatier. “All we’re doin’ is kissing, Sunshine…” He squeezed.

I shuddered. Swallowed. Inhaled. “Hey…remember back at the Old State House when you crawled on top of me and kissed me?”

“Mhmm. Best kiss of my life,” he grinned.

Another squeeze. I trembled. Rocked my hips against his hand. Pressed my back against the wall. _Oh._ “Best kiss of _your_ life? Heh, you kidding? You made me cum in my pants.”

The ghoul paused and raised a brow, or lack thereof. The corners of his lips twitched. Then he groaned this deep, longing, _horny_ fucking groan. “Yeah? I bet you made a big mess, didn’t you?” He gripped the swell in my pants and rubbed his palm against me over and over. 

“John…!” 

“Is little Nate gonna make a big, big mess again?” A squeeze. A rub. The sound of my zipper. A hand in my pants. A palm against my bare dick. A stroke. Then another. And another. 

I could barely stand to kiss him, and now, he was getting me so worked up that release was building in my balls. Another tug, a palm across my head, a fist at my base, his rasp in my ear like a haunting melody, his tongue in my mouth, a hurried stroke, his teeth on my neck while he pumped me, stroked me…

“Oh fuck…oh fuck!”

Right before I came, he stopped everything, pulling his hand back out of my pants.

“Christ, are you kidding me Hancock?!”

With a dexterous flick of his wrist, he tucked me in, zipped me up, buttoned me, and patted me on the crotch. “Now that I’ve got you good and excited, what do you say we finish packing?”

“Ugh!” I growled. “We don’t even know where we’re moving to yet!”

“You sold the deed to Kingsport last week, man. The Minutemen are gonna be here to settle the place today.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Come on,” he pleaded, “it’s an adventure, right? I’ll go with you and MacCready to Covenant, help you get a feel for the place.”

“Yeah, Covenant: the entire settlement I murdered.”

“They tortured people.”

“And I killed them.”

“If you and Nick hadn’t stopped them, they would have kept kidnapping and torturing people. Synths, humans, who knows who else. Look, the fact that you’re still hung up over it means you’ve got a conscience which is important, but you need to realize you did the right thing and move on.”

“The right thing?” I scoffed. “Mass murder isn’t the right thing. It was the only option. And it’s not a ‘hangup,’ Hancock. It fucking haunts me. You gonna start telling me that going to war with the Brotherhood is one of my ‘hangups?’ That I shouldn’t be ‘hung up’ over the carnage I left at the Boston Airport?”

“Whoa, easy,” cooed the ghoul. “No one said that living with tough decisions is easy. All I’m saying is that it couldn’t hurt to give Covenant a shot if you feel it’s best for your man or your kid.”

“’My kid,’” I snorted. I reached for my cigarettes. I was surprised when Hancock batted my hand aside. 

“Hey. Stop getting pissy with me. You think I’d clock out of Goodneighbor for just anyone? I’m on your side.”

I paused and looked him over. He had this stern look on his face; not angry or anything, but almost like the look an older sibling gives to their kid brother when they’re veering onto the wrong path. I let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Sorry, Hancock. I’m just frustrated. I know Kingsport is falling apart at the seams, but I still like it here. Do you know how difficult it was for me to store _The Mariner_ at the Nakanos’?”

“Yeah, man. I’d be pretty pissed off if my boyfriend made me get rid of my boat. It’s almost…emasculating…” 

I gave a wry laugh. “Should I store my dick over there too while I’m at it?”

Now he laughed. “Oh man, this is probably, like, a real unhealthy outlook on masculinity.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Speaking of dicks, though…” I gestured to my crotch. I was still hard. “Maybe now that you see how upset I am over losing my settlement, you’ll take some pity on me and finish me off?”

“Oh, Sunshine, of course I will.”

“Really?” 

“Hell no.” He smacked me on the nuts and I grimaced. “Now shut up and get packin’. You’ll cum when I say you can cum.”

-

“I hate you. Both of you.”

Handcuffed to a support pillar? Really? And the pillow I was sitting on wasn’t even comfortable. And the boathouse was cold. And there were Mr. Handys watching us. And one of them tried to feed me a birthday cake with razorblades sticking out of it. And it wasn’t my birthday. And who the fuck was Malcolm? 

Well, we were in Malcolm’s marina, at any rate, and Hancock had me bound and naked while he tortured MacCready with that vibrator I got him for Christmas. MacCready’s cheeks were flushed and he was hard as hell. He was made to stand there with his dick hanging out of his boxers in the mayor’s grip while the magic of fusion energy worked the underside of his head to sweet, unbearable agony.

“You get real worked up, don’t you, kid?” whispered Hancock. 

MacCready nodded. If he didn’t, Hancock would punish him. And he was already in way, way too deep as it was. If he had done a better job licking Hancock’s boots, maybe he wouldn’t have been forced to stand there getting his dick tortured with a vibrator that was set to a mode called ‘Atomic Fuckfest.’

_Bzzzt, bzzzt, bzzzt_ sang the vibrator, and “Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!” sang MacCready. 

“Seriously, MacCready,” mused Hancock, holding his throbbing cock in place. “I’ve never known anyone who gets as hard and cums so much.”

“Hancock…” he moaned.

“I mean, look at him,” he added, directing his words at me this time.

“I am. Because you’re making me.” I glowered. My dick twitched. Ugh.

“Hancock!” repeated MacCready.

“Hey, pipe down, or are you asking for more torture? Because I can arrange that…” Hancock clutched the poor man’s shaft and heightened its pressure against the vibrator. 

MacCready’s reaction was immediate. My mouth felt dry. Oh god. He was gonna cum. Look at him, I thought, those eyes wide, hips jerking, that pink tint to his cheeks, the sweat against his handsome nose, the bead of bliss at his tip, and jesus, every gasp and pant that left his perfect lips. He moaned, and then…

“BUFFOUT! BUFFOUT!” 

Hancock looked like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Either way, he shut off the toy. “You okay MacCr-”

A little bit of cum dribbled out of MacCready followed by a torrent of piss. And considering he was meant to ejaculate on me, guess who was sitting bound and naked under his piss stream? 

As soon as that first stream hit me, he shoved Hancock off and turned away, accidentally relieving himself in the middle of the floor of Reeb Marina. Was it weird that I found it endearing he had tried to spare me? But oh…man…he looked genuinely humiliated. Not in the fun way, either.

He apologized for hours. I kept telling him it was fine, seriously, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that’d happened to me, but he felt awful. He apologized again when we woke up, again during a battle with some raiders, and _again_ when we approached Taffington - - my old settlement. Might as well collect some mail, right?

“Hey, boss, I just wanna say I’m really-”

I tossed my head back and groaned dramatically at the sky just to shut him up. I must have looked like some kind of mentally inconvenienced deathclaw. At least the settler handing me my old mail thought so, judging by the look on her face. I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”

The three of us trotted off toward Covenant, about a mile away from Taffington if you headed through the woods, as I sorted through mail. I was surprised I had gotten so much before I realized that ninety percent of it was written by Preston elaborating on various settlements in excruciatingly boring detail. 

Number of settlements. Number of settlers. Number of windmill generators. Of water pumps. Pounds of steel. Traders. Blah blah blah… Who cared how many rows of corn Oberland Station had? It was corn, Preston. God damn. Get a hobby.

Then, one letter caught my eye. It had a return address – somewhere in the Capital Wastes – but no name. I gnawed open the envelope and peeked inside. As soon as I started reading, I felt like I was going to be sick. 

Danse.

No. This wasn’t the time to have a crisis. I tucked the letter back in the envelope and shoved it in the pocket of my coat. There would be time to read it later. For now, I intended to follow through with what I was doing: go to Covenant, gauge how much it sucked ass, and if it didn’t, send a couple provisioners to haul my crap over from Kingsport. Simple.


	46. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate returns to Covenant hoping he can put his past behind him and find a place where he and MacCready can settle. Between his persistent 'problem' from Hancock and the skeletons in his closet, things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the love of god, will somebody _please_ just buy Deezer's lemonade?

I could have sworn Covenant was cursed _before_ I killed everyone inside of it. It was always too calm, too still. It didn’t matter how loudly the townsfolk chattered or how wide their smiles; Covenant was scary. I knew it and Valentine knew it, which is precisely why I had asked him to meet us there. I needed a voice of reason, someone who had been there during the massacre, who understood the horrors we’d faced while still capable of making logical decisions in its wake. Nick would help me sort through my feelings. That is, if he could look me in the eyes again after I lied to him about Shaun.

I found the synth with his feet planted firmly in the soil staring through the front gate. There was a hard look on his face. If that wasn’t an indicator that something was off from the start, then maybe the swirling, gray clouds in the sky were, or the screeching crows lined up on the walls. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, approaching from behind. 

“Hrm.” He didn’t even look at me, just stared at the thoroughfare. I took a look for myself.

A couple of crows picked at the ground. The bodies were long gone, but there were still bloodstains in the dirt. Judging by the red scuffs stretching across the earth, the cleanup crew had dragged them out by their feet. That blood right there? I knew exactly whose it was. Images of Talia flashed through my mind, how she charged at me with that pipe wrench. And she was going to kill me unless I pulled out my gun and…

I held my palm against my lips and looked away.

“You sure you wanna sleep here tonight?” questioned the old synth. He tilted his head. The clean, gray collar on his spotless black coat really made his eyes stand out. 

I couldn’t answer right away, not if I didn’t want to lose my lunch. I blinked away a couple of tears and coughed. Whatever feelings Nick had about me and Shaun were swept under the rug for the time being.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here.”

“I know,” I said, voice muffled by my hand. I took a deep breath, centered myself, and tried again. I shoved my hands in my pockets. “This is a great location. Assuming it’s habitable after…”

After finding all of those corpses in the caverns across the lake. Humans and synths – or were they even synths? – tortured, gutted, probed with metal instruments, made to sit at a table and answer insane questions until they broke mentally. I went into detail about it with Hancock one night when I was drunk, a long, long time ago. He told me I cried, but I didn’t remember. And MacCready knew that something bad had happened, but he didn’t probe me for answers; he knew it was hard for me to talk about and left it at that. Maybe that’s why he was so nonchalant about trying to settle Covenant. That was on me.

“You know,” said Valentine, “I’m glad you’re trying to do right by Shaun. I’m not sure Covenant is the answer, but hey, maybe it is, and I’ll stay with you tonight if that’s what it takes to find out.”

That was all it took for me to decide. If Valentine saw merit in my actions, then we were staying the night. End of story. He was my guide through the storm, my moral compass. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you. About Shaun,” I whispered. 

“Why did you?” he asked. “You’ve never felt the need to lie to me before. At least I hope not.”

I laughed a sad laugh. “Because it was easier to pretend Shaun didn’t exist than to figure out whether or not I loved him.”

“And do you?”

I glanced up at Nick and let my mouth fall open. I didn’t have to say anything. He understood. 

“You don’t know, do you?”

I looked back down at the ground and shook my head. “I’m trying, though. He’s…he’s a good kid, Valentine. He just isn’t the one Norman and I had together.” 

“Does it really matter?”

I paused. Glancing back up, I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m here for you.” A metal hand came to rest against my shoulder. I offered up a small smile and patted his skeletal wrist. 

“Thanks, Nick.”

-

Me, Valentine, Hancock and MacCready; the unlikeliest of people to hang around Covenant for a night. MacCready was oblivious to the heaviness lingering in the air. In fact, he was so excited that he didn’t complain about anything: the stench of blood, the thunder in the distance, the pre-rain chill, the unusual silence between the detective, the mayor and myself…he was oblivious to everything.

“Oh man, that’d be a _great_ place for the kitchen!” He hung in the doorway of the old shop where that happy-go-lucky merchant, Penny, worked. You know, before I killed her. Was I supposed to make grilled cheese on the stove I used to bash her face against before she hemorrhaged and bled out?

I shivered, not that I was cold. Jesus. It was way too quiet. I looked over my shoulder and furrowed my brows. “I don’t know what’s creepier,” I said to Hancock and Valentine, “the fact that the cat’s still hanging around,” – the cat meowed as if on cue, - “or the fact that Deezer’s still here.”

“WHO WANTS TO TRY DEEZER’S LEMONADE?! MADE WITH REAL LEMONS!”

“Christ, this thing,” groaned Hancock. “Hey robot. You get your liquor license yet?”

“DEEZER’S LEMONADE HAS FEWER RADS AND MORE FLAVOR!”

“Rad intake ain’t exactly high on my list of concerns these days. You got any booze?

“YOUR FEEDBACK IS IMPORTANT TO US. PLEASE LODGE ANY COMPLAINTS WITH OUR CUSTOMER SERVICE DEPARTMENT: ME!”

“Oh, I’m about to lodge something…”

“And check this out!” gushed MacCready, trotting across the lawn. “This could be the master bedroom! And that one can be for Shaun! And me and you and Hancock can pull the ropes out and use that weird jail cell over there to-” MacCready cut himself off. “Uhhh, hey, Valentine…forgot you were standing there just now…yeesh.”

Valentine cleared his throat. “I’d appreciate if the three of you would wait until I’m long gone before testing it out.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” goaded Hancock, “I’d sooner lock up Deezer and drink his ‘lemonade’ than picture you without pants on.”

-

In all honesty, it was a terrible day. #1, I was still being denied. #2, I was in Covenant. _Covenant._ #3, MacCready was completely unsympathetic, and seeing him this happy made me feel like voicing my concerns was going to drag him down, that I would be wrong to do it. #4, I was still holding on to that latter from Danse. And #5, it was raining. _Again._

I closed the door behind me. Hancock was poking around the workshop, MacCready was already moving around furniture in all the different houses, and Valentine was off snooping. Knowing the detective, he was probably looking for clues or insights as to why these people did what they did. I didn’t want to think about it, though. It made me feel sick. 

Speaking of which, I unpocketed the letter. I took a seat at the desk in what I guess could be called the common room and turned on the lamp. At least the generators still worked. Motes of dust swirled under the hot beam. I unfolded the paper, took a deep breath, and began to read. 

_I can address you as neither paladin nor solider, and I certainly cannot refer to you as my friend. So Nate - - _

_You know the Brotherhood meant the world to me, even after my true identity was revealed to Elder Maxson and the others. Knowing this, you single-handedly destroyed everything I ever held dear to me with the Railroad at your side. I never once doubted that you could bring peace to the Commonwealth, but I never expected you capable of ending so many human lives. And for what? _

_I’m not saying my brothers and sisters were perfect. I know this now, after having lived the last year of my life in DC. Knowing I’m a synthetic being is the most difficult thing I have ever experienced, and Haylen can say the same. I would like to think I am more sympathetic to others in similar situations than I would have been long ago. I never would have discovered that part of myself if not for you. But destroying the Brotherhood? What did you gain? Ask yourself, what problems did you solve?_

_I came to ask you this very question before I left because I needed to know the answer. I needed to understand. But when I looked at you, I felt nothing but betrayal. I wasn’t even angry, just hurt and disappointed. _

_I’m not writing to you to heal old wounds or build bridges; I’m writing for the sake of closure. I can never forgive you for what you’ve done, Nate, but I want to say thank you for the lessons you taught me. Haylen and I rescued a little girl – a synth – from a slaver camp called Paradise Falls. You can’t possibly imagine the horrors she endured. If you hadn’t convinced me to live, I never would have married Haylen, and we never would have rescued our daughter. _

_So, thank you, for being a friend and a brother. Part of me hopes that someday I’ll feel differently, but for now, I need to say goodbye. After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve been through, I hope that one day you may find peace again. _

_Ad Vict_-

I crumpled up the letter, slammed my fist on the desk, and wept. “Damn it!” I threw the wad at the wall and kicked something – maybe the desk or the wall, I don’t know – deflating into a miserable heap. 

“Hey,” chided MacCready, stepping into the house. I had forgotten that the door was made of mesh and blocked out zero of the noise. It slammed shut behind him. “You ruining our furniture already, big guy?” He took one look at me and shelved his humor. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

I refused to face him, sitting, crying, shaking my head. 

“Seriously,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk, “how come you’re kicking our stuff around? Tell me what’s going on.” 

“What’s going on is that there is no ‘our stuff!’” I snapped, turning to face him at last. MacCready parted his lips, expression falling. “Why do you think it’s okay to get cozy already? Didn’t I tell you something bad happened here?!”

“Well…I mean, yeah but…you said some people died but-”

“Because I killed them!” I stood up, knocking the chair to the floor with a thud. “I killed every last one of them with my own bare hands, MacCready! Do you know how that feels?!”

“Yes!” he hollered back. “I’ve made mistakes too, you know!”

“Well you sure don’t seem very broken up over it! How do you even live with yourself, huh?! For god’s sake, how can you just kill people and be okay with it?!”

“Who said I’m okay with it?”

“Oh please,” I sneered, “caps and getting laid are the only things you give two shits about.”

“That isn’t true! And hey! Where do you get off talking to me like that? All I did was come in here to check on you! I haven’t even done anything wrong!”

“Well you dragged me back here, didn’t you? Made me store away my boat and sell my house?”

“I didn’t _make_ you do jack sh-err..crap…” 

“Oh jesus! Just fucking curse! You had no problem with it a month ago!”

“Well maybe I do now!”

Another sneer. “_Why,_ MacCready? Why do you even care? You said it yourself: it’s not like it matters anymore.”

“It _does_ matter!”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it fu-urgh, yes it frigging does, butthole!”

“Why?!”

“**For Shaun!**” I stopped shouting. Stopped moving. Stopped everything. “That’s right. I’m doing it for Shaun now. One of us is ready to step up and it obviously isn’t you.”

Red. I was seeing red.

I walked toward the door.

“That’s right!” hollered MacCready. “Run away like you always do!” 

I closed it. Locked it. Then, I turned around, fire in my eyes. MacCready was staring at me from the desk, brows tucked so tightly against his eye sockets that I thought they’d sink into his face. He was angry. Livid. _Good._ So was I.

“Hey,” came a rasp from outside the window. “Is there somethin’ me or Valentine can-”

“Take a walk.”

“Huh?”

“Take. A. Walk.”

“Outside the walls, or?”

I tilted my head toward Hancock. “And take the robot with you.”

“Come on, man, Deezer?”

“Hancock…” I pleaded, or maybe warned. “You do this for me. You and Nick. Take Deezer and leave. No questions asked.”

The ghoul looked skeptical at first, but finally, he nodded and left. MacCready and I stared at each other. We were both about to snap. I waited and waited, glaring at the merc until I heard the front gates open and close. There. Finally. I took a step forward. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, caution hanging on his words.

I chuckled. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

“With _me_? Are you kidding me?! All I did was ask you about some furniture! Did you seriously kick out our friends so you can fight with me?!”

“Tell me no.”

“Huh?” Now he looked more confused than anything.

“I said…” I snatched him by the collar of his duster. “Tell. Me. No. And I’ll stop.”

He wasn’t sure what to do or say. I think I scared him a little, though, because he snatched my wrist like he was about to fling me off. His breathing was choppy, too. 

“Shhh…” I whispered, letting go of his duster and caressing his shoulders. He watched in confusion. I tilted my head to the side, watching the lamplight shine in his eyes. The sky was dark blue and the evening rain was beating against the rooftop. I had almost forgotten what rain against real shingles sounded like. It was nothing compared to the sounds of the typewriter, writing utensils, ashtray and papers hitting the floor as I reached behind my partner and shoved them off. 

MacCready gasped. “B-boss?”

“Now you listen to me,” I commanded, fumbling for the buttons on his duster. I snapped them open one by one. “I’m giving this an honest shot, coming back to the place I hate most in the world just so I can try to make it work for you and Shaun.” I flung his duster open, wrapped my arm around his waist, and lowered him onto the desk. Inch by inch, I crawled on top of him, knees planted against the oak surface. “So don’t you _dare_ tell me I’m not ready to step up, MacCready, because next time you do, I’ll beat your ass until you bleed.” I slammed my fist around his throat.

“Wait!” he wheezed. 

I loosened my grip. My heart was pounding. “What?”

“You wouldn’t though, right? Not for real?”

I looked to the left, then to the right, as though some sort of imaginary being would step up and help me understand his words. “What…what do you mean?”

“Like…you wouldn’t really hit me because you’re pissed off, right?”

“Wait, you mean outside of sex? Without consent? MacCready…” I let him go entirely. “R.J., I would never…”

“Okay, okay, just checking,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry I said those things about you not stepping up…”

“MacCready, don’t…can we just-” fuck. Can we just fuck, please? I’m angry and depressed and baby come on I just need an outlet…

“No, seriously,” he continued. “That was really messed up of me. Are you okay? You never told me why you were crying.”

I don’t wanna think about it. Don’t wanna talk about it. I just wanna cum. I’ve been holding it in since yesterday. Just let me stick it in your butt and-

I gasped. Christ…more tears. I hovered over MacCready, legs pinned around his waist, and told him all about the letter. About Danse. About Covenant. About my feelings toward Shaun and my ineptitude as a potential parent. I told him everything. And all the while, he just lied there, lied there and stroked my legs like the loving man he was. By the time I was finished spilling my guts, I was in his lap. MacCready sat upright on the desk with my legs on either side of him, arms hanging around his neck. I sobbed into his shoulder while he stroked my hair. 

“It’ll be okay…everything’s going to be alright as long as we stick together…” he promised.

I must have been venting for a long time, because a familiar voice came from behind me. “God damn, MacCready, you must have done a real number on him. Next time you top, invite me. Mmm!”

I looked over my shoulder staring daggers at Hancock with puffy eyes. 

“Jesus, he made you cry, too? How come I’ve never made you cry? Feeling a little inadequate, here.” 

More daggers.

“Well, ‘least I’ve got a goal in mind, now. Anyway, enjoy your aftercare. Peace.”


	47. The Glowing Sea-men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Covenant is creepy, so Nate passes the time with Hancock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might wanna skip this chapter if bodily fluids aren't your thing. It's not plot-heavy so all you're missing is some degrading smut.

I hated crying. It always left me feeling exhausted and headachey. Anyway, after _that_ whole…well, whatever you want to call it…MacCready joined Valentine outside. I could hear Valentine asking MacCready if he thought it was still worth it to settle in Covenant. MacCready’s optimism had turned to skepticism. He was telling Valentine that he wasn’t so sure anymore.

I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though, not if settling here meant MacCready and Shaun could be happy. Instead, I decided to suck it up and stay the night anyway. In order to keep myself occupied, I asked around for Hancock. Valentine gestured to the “master bedroom,” as MacCready had called it earlier, the first house on the left with all the bunks. 

I knocked twice and opened the door. Hancock was shirtless, lying on the bottom of one of the bunks with his pants undone in the front. Gotta say, he looked good: fit waist in plain view, hips jutting into his jeans, fly open, revealing a pair of red underwear. Mm. And his hat was still perched right on top of his head.

He lowered his reading material. “Ready to get this freakshow on the road?”

“Not yet. I’m gonna give Covenant an honest shot.”

“You sure? This place could give a deathclaw nightmares.”

I chuckled. “You’re telling me. What are you reading?”

“_Diaries of a Teenaged Ghoul._ It’s a sort of exposé. Sixteen year old falls into an irradiated crater and tries to join the cheerleading squad at Shaw High School.”

“Really?”

“Fuck no. It’s _Guns and Bullets._” He held it up. Indeed it was. 

I smirked. “That’s the most ‘Deacon’ thing you’ve ever said, by the way.”

“If you’re gonna insult me Sunshine, at least take me out to dinner, first.”

Man. Hancock really knew how to brighten my day. I was miserable when I walked in that door and now, not so much. I grabbed the metal railing of the top bunk and lowered myself onto the bottom at his feet. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“About dinner? And how you didn’t eat anything?”

I shrugged. “I was stressed. No, I wanted to talk about earlier, with me and MacCready.”

“Hey,” he said, setting the magazine aside, “I know when to back off. I can tell Covenant is really taking its toll on you, and your mental health is more important than my stupid denial kink.”

“You didn’t walk in on anything, Hancock.”

“I didn’t?”

I shook my head.

“You sayin’ you were crying for real?”

This time I nodded.

“Mh…” Hancock gave a sympathetic grunt. “Damn. Sorry about my comments, then.”

“Don’t be,” I chuckled. “They were pretty funny. Maybe not so much at the time, but in hindsight…”

“Can I do anything?”

“Honestly? No.” I lied down next to him and he scooted over to make room. “MacCready knows the full story now, so I’m hoping with my patience and his understanding we can still make Covenant work.”

“If you say so,” said Hancock. “Though I get the feeling that MacCready’s home is gonna be wherever you two make it.”

“Maybe…” 

I sighed. Oof. His chest. His hips. All of him. He was right there, too. How could I _not_ roll onto my side to face him? How could I _not_ bring my hips against his leg? How could I _not_ pull myself closer?

He tilted his head and smiled at me. “Heh. So you’re still about to burst, huh?”

“Could be in about five seconds.”

I rocked my hips against his leg. Four seconds, now. Let the countdown begin.

“You know they’ll hear us, Sunshine…” he grinned. 

“Not if we’re quiet,” I whispered. Another thrust. Three.

“You saying you _still_ want me to work you up?”

“I’m saying…” I thrust. My cock stirred against my pants, against the weight of the ghoul’s leg. Two. “…that you make me hard, Hancock.”

“Don’t I know it,” he tittered. “Mmm…can feel you already. Can’t imagine what it’s like being forced to stay that hard for two days.”

“No. You really can’t.” I rolled on top of him with my two legs on either side of his one, groin boring against it. I trembled and ground down. One…

Two craggy fingers slipped into my mouth and I had to summon every last ounce of self-control not to moan around them. We had to stay quiet. The wrong movement, the wrong noise, and the others would know what we were doing twenty feet away. 

I swallowed his fingers down without hesitation, picturing his cock in my mouth instead. Sucking off Hancock was like drinking a beer; the first time, it was weird. Why would anyone like the taste of salty radiation in their mouth? But something about it just kept me coming back. I think part of me felt honored whenever I could make Hancock cum. He was so good at controlling his own orgasms, so whenever I made him cum – or at least when he let himself cum at my behest – I thought, hey, _I_ did that. _I_ made him happy.

God his fingers felt so good. I seized his wrist and let my tongue swirl around them. I wanted to moan so bad it was killing me. I was so hard, jutting into his leg like I was going to explode out of my jeans just so my dick could find its way to him. 

Hancock wasn’t even doing anything and I was getting off. He just lied there, watching me with a smile and leaning back to enjoy the show. And boy, what a show it was. I was shoving my hips against him as hard as I possibly could without rousing the springs of the bed, praying that I could take his fingers deeper into my throat. 

I wanted to swallow his cock. No, I _needed_ it. But it was too risky. Instead, I closed my eyes and let my lips meet his knuckles, gripping his wrist and jerking his digits across my tongue. Their length slipped down, down, down into my throat. Oh, shit. That felt so good. But it was also a little much. But it was so good! But! 

My tongue clashed against his fingers as he fucked my throat with them, dick straining like never before against his muscled leg through those jeans of his. He was pumping those two fingers over and over until my throat seized up and I gagged around him. Whoops. I waited for him to pull them out of my throat, but…he didn’t.

“Three taps,” he whispered. 

Three taps? Whoa, that was our non-verbal signal, our “safe word” for when things got _real_ freaky. What was Hancock-

His fingers zoomed back across my tongue and down my throat. I immediately gagged again, throat clamping around his digits. Oh Jesus, that one brought tears to my eyes. I sniffled, breathed through my nose, and tried to regain my composure, allowing my tongue to flick against his skin. I was still on fire too, relentlessly grinding against his legs. 

I wanted to talk so bad. I wanted to tell Hancock how much my balls hurt, how my cock needed attention, how I was getting really, really horny moving up against him like that.

My thoughts were interrupted when he added a third finger. Oh no, that was way, way too much. Penises were one thing: they were a certain shape, you know, penis-shaped. But his fingers…well it was weird, and he was spreading them, and it was hitting my gag reflex over and over. This time I stifled a throaty noise and jerked his hand out by the wrist. I batted my eyelashes to blink the tears away.

“You gotta stop or I’m gonna throw up,” I whispered.

Hancock narrowed his eyes. “I don’t stop for _stop._”

My eyes widened. Uh, what? Before I could question him, he flung my hand off of his wrist, said, “Open your mouth, whore,” and crammed his fingers back inside of me. 

_Whore._ Ohhh. That did it. I humped his leg fast and hard, trying so goddamn hard to stay quiet. I wanted to moan. Wanted to cry. Wanted to beg. But all I could do was fuck his leg while he shoved his fingers so far down my throat I gagged again. I quickly turned my head to the side. My esophagus was not pleased.

The sting of his wet palm, covered in my saliva, met my cheek. I hissed. He jerked my chin so that I was forced to look at him. “Don’t you dare look away from me. You do what you gotta, but you look me in the eyes when you do it. Do you understand me?”

I gave a frantic nod. But no, actually, I didn’t understand. What was his game? What was he doing to-

His fingers were back in my throat, and he was commanding me to suck. I did. I did as best as I possibly could while trying not to gag, but…but he was gagging me! On purpose! And I wasn’t allowed to turn my head! All I was allowed to do was hump him, fully clothed, and take his fingers down my throat! 

“Look at you,” he whispered in that deep, guttural rasp of his. “Degrading yourself like this. And for what? For a little relief?” 

“Mph…” I choked on his fingers again. There was drool all over his knuckles. I was hard. So hard.

“Answer me…”

I nodded. _Yes, Hancock! I’m a whore! Please degrade me! I need to cum so bad it hurts! Do anything, just make me cum, even if it’s right inside of my own pants, please!_

But oh shit his fingers. The next time he teased my throat I could swear I felt myself turn pale. I had to turn away but I knew I wasn’t allowed. Instead, I was forced to hover over him, dick boring into his leg as my belly hitched and I shuddered. He didn’t even take his fingers out, just held them there until sick dribbled down his hand. 

I don’t think I had ever felt so humiliated. How could he stand that? Seriously? How could he just lie there and be okay with this? Turned on by it, even? I had never been so happy to have skipped dinner in my life; it was mostly just water. He held his fingers there until he made me do it again. I closed my eyes and quaked, just letting it all happen. Then, I thought back to something Hancock had said to me an entire year ago, something that made no sense at the time, but now…

The three of us were on the bridge by the USS Constitution. I was hungover and sick. And Hancock had said, _“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure there’s some warped bastard out there who gets his rocks off on this sort of thing. Everything’s a fetish these days.”_

Son of a bitch, Hancock. You’re the warped bastard?!

Hancock finally, _finally_ removed his fingers from my mouth. Thank God, too, because the next time that happened I wasn’t going to be able to be quiet about it. In fact, it was a miracle nobody had heard us yet. The mayor wiped some drool off my chin and slapped me across the mouth. __

_ _I was such a fucked up person: hips planted against a ghoul, covered in my own mess, gasping quietly, and still just as hard as I was before if not harder. I was a piece of trash. And I deserved everything that was happening to me._ _

_ _Hancock paused. Tilted his head to the side. “Oh my god.”_ _

_ _Now _that_ was out of place. “What?” I whispered._ _

_ _“Holy shit.” He looked down, pulled his boxers over his raging hard-on (_wowww_ he was hard) and shook his head. “Do you know how goddamn hot you are?” _ _

_ _I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, Hancock shivered. It was this hard, full-body shiver that I had never seen him do before. He gave a quick exhale, a soft grunt, and came, shaking his head all the while._ _

_ _“Look at what you did.” His voice was calm as he continued to cum down his own dick in viscous, iridescent spurts. “You’re in so much trouble, do you know that?”_ _

_ _Oh, I knew. Like I said, Hancock was great at controlling his own ejaculation. I, nor anybody I knew, had ever gotten him off prematurely like that. Part of me was flattered. The other part of me was in agony, because I still, _still_ hadn’t found release, and there was no way in hell Hancock was going to make life easy for me now._ _


	48. When Life Gives you Lemons...MAKE DEEZER'S LEMONADE!!!!!!!1111

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS MADE WITH 100% REAL LEMONS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it? I slay me.

Hancock cleaned both our messes off of himself and turned in for the evening without Valentine or MacCready catching on to what we had done. I was so humiliated that I could hardly fall asleep. I lied awake for hours. Part of me wished I had never let Hancock take things as far as he had…but the other part of me got off on it. Hoo boy. I was a mental wreck. Thankfully, I fell asleep around three in the morning, nestled between Hancock and MacCready. 

“Hey.”

I blinked. 

“Dad, wake up!” 

“Wh…Shaun?!” I bolted upright. Before my vision could come into focus, a pair of feet scurried out of the door of the bunkhouse. It slammed shut. Hancock and MacCready were nowhere in sight. 

Damn it, who invited Shaun? MacCready, probably. Ugh. Now I had to drag myself out of bed and pretend not to be mad at R.J., for Shaun’s sake _and_ MacCready’s: like Hancock said, he felt like MacCready was standing on some kind of precipice. I needed to be gentle with him when it came to kids. I knew how messed up he was over Duncan. Time to shelve my rage and get out of bed.

I flung on pants and a jacket and opened the door. It was a beautiful, sunny day. In fact, I couldn’t even tell it had rained. It smelled like springtime. I was surprised to see a faint tinge of green grass on the ground, the first I had ever seen since crawling out of that vault.

I stared at it with my jaw gaping. _Real, green grass._ Maybe hope wasn’t lost after all. Maybe I could take Covenant and turn it into something beautiful. But wait, where was everyone?

“Shaun?” I called out. I looked to the right. The front gate was open. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket and headed outside of the walls.

Hancock and Shaun were standing down by the lake. It looked like Hancock was holding something. I approached quietly from behind. 

“My pop used to take me fishing in places like this. Never caught anything that didn’t try to eat us first, but damn if it wasn’t fun. You wanna try?”

“Yes, Uncle Hancock!”

Shaun took the fishing pole while Hancock guided him in casting the line. I was filled with a million emotions. Joy, first and foremost, that Hancock and Shaun were taking to each other, but also regret that I had never gotten the chance to teach Shaun how to fish. How to throw a ball. How to ride a bike. 

“Hey,” I said.

“Sh sh sh! He’s got somethin’!” said Hancock. Shaun grunted and jerked the pole back, but he was too small. “Here,” said Hancock, helping him reel in his catch. The two of them tugged and tugged on the pole until something quite large emerged from the water. What was that, a mirelurk? Should I have brought my gun?

But it wasn’t a mirelurk. It was made of metal. And it was _huge._ Shaun and Hancock staggered back until a cylindrical slab splashed out of the water and onto the ground. I gaped. No. Couldn’t be. Was that…a cryo pod? A cryo pod like from Vault 111?!

Before I could question it, the door hissed open, icy mist rising into the air. Somebody stepped out. And for a moment there, I could have sworn I was going to pass out. My legs became weak. Head heavy. Breath tight. No. No no no.

“Dad!” cried Shaun, and flung his arms around my husband, around Norman. 

He was the same as he always was: tall, with rich, ebony skin and luscious eyes, a bald head and a strong, masculine jaw. And that smile…that grin…that cocky, handsome grin…

“Hey, kid! Wow, look how big you are! Next thing I know and me and your pop will be sending you off to law school!”

“Norman, we’ve talked about this,” I warned. Wait. Why did I say that? It was like I was on autopilot. “We’re going to support Shaun in whatever he chooses to do.”

“Of course, baby, but I just _know_ our boy is meant for greatness.”

“And what if he wants to pick up a trade?”

Norman laughed that infuriating little laugh, you know, the one he got when he was acting all uppity and high-and-mighty about himself. Typical. That’s what happens when you’re born into wealth, I guess. I mean, his father put him through law school, so of _course_ he was going to act like a little bitch about trade school. And I saw the way Shaun tinkered! Maybe he’d want to go into I.T. or something. Wait, why was I pissed about Norman’s old habits? I loved Norman. Why was I feeling so strange? 

“Mornin’!” greeted MacCready. He handed me a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, R.J.” I took a sip. Ugh. Commonwealth brew at its ‘finest.’ “More dumpster coffee. Cool.”

“Ugh. Why do you always get so worked up over coffee? Be grateful once in a while. And who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s Norman. Think I mentioned him once or twice.”

“Your husband?”

“Hey,” greeted Norman, half-way watching Shaun as he poked around the cryo pod. “You must be the boyfriend.”

“Is that what he’s calling me these days?” snickered MacCready. “Sure coulda fooled me. All he ever does is complain about coffee and try to keep me from being happy.”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Norman. “They got washers and dryers in the apocalypse? Nate can’t wash laundry for _shit._”

“Oh, I know,” scoffed MacCready. “The pants always come out wet. What a moron.” 

“I’m right here, guys,” I said. 

When I glanced up, Shaun was gone. The cryo pod was a memory lounger instead. The TV inside of it showed flashes of my old life. Codsworth, Norman, my infant son, even Mr. ‘Vault-Tec-Calling!’ showing up at my door. And Hancock was leaned back against the lounger with his leg shot up in the air pin-up style, totally naked. Well, except the fishnets and pumps. 

“Like what you see, Blue?” said Piper’s voice out of Hancock’s mouth. 

Oh. _Ohhh._ I saw what was going on. “You almost got me, Piper. But you aren’t real, are you? You’re a dream! This whooole thing is a fucked up dream! Well what’s it supposed to mean, huh?”

“Probably means you need more sleep, Sunshine,” said MacCready with Hancock’s voice. Why was he wearing Cait’s corset?

“Okay, you guys, cut it out. This dream is getting a little too feminine for my taste.” 

“Heh,” chuckled my husband. “Nice shirt.” 

When I looked down, I tugged the bottom of my shirt so I could read the text. The text was upside down, facing me. **COCK-A-SAURUS.** “Ugh,” I sighed. There was vomit on it. “Am I having this dream because of last night?”

“Why, what happened last night?” asked MacCready who was now just normal MacCready but weirdly short, like, up to my hips. What the? 

“Nothing,” I answered.

“Tell me.” His voice rose a couple octaves.

“No, man, just let it go. It was between me and Hancock.”

“TELL MEEEE-“ His voice just kept rising and rising like he had sucked down a whole lot of helium. He started inflating, too, getting bigger and bigger, “-EEEEEEEEE-“ until suddenly, he popped so loud I-

I gasped. Sat up. Panted. Oh _fuuuck that noise!_ Hancock and MacCready were still asleep on either side of me. I carefully peeled myself from the bed. MacCready rolled over in his sleep and Hancock wrapped his arm around the merc’s waist. If that nightmare hadn’t made me sweaty and nauseous, I’m sure I would have thought it was cute. I threw on my jeans and my jacket and went outside. Maybe I could find Valentine.

Still raining. Figured. Valentine was probably off reading in one of the houses. And Jesus, it was hardly light out. What was I supposed to do at five in the morning, coffee-deprived and feeling like trash? 

I lit up a cigarette. Well, that was a good start. I stood on the porch under the awning and smoked, watching the storm snap a branch off a dead tree; the cat lick itself in the workshop, Deezer float out of the front gates; a gust of wind blow an empty trash can over onto the WAAAIT.

Where was Deezer going?!

Well obviously I had to follow him. There was nothing else to do. Besides, what did a Mr. Handy have to do out in the middle of a rainstorm? I crept outside the gates just in time to be snatched. I let out a loud gasp, quickly shushed by whomever had grabbed me.

“Keep it down, I don’t think Deezer saw me and I want to see where this goes,” said Nick. It looked like he’d been having a smoke break of his own outside the wall. 

Me and Valentine watched the robot casually float down to the lake, and then…well…keep floating. He floated and floated and floated until he was _in_ the lake. And he didn’t come back up.

Valentine and I exchanged glances. Without speaking a word, we headed down to the edge of the water. Ripples from the rain freckled the surface. There were no air bubbles, nothing; no sign of Deezer at all. 

“Darn,” said Valentine. “What do you suppose we do?”

“Obviously you gotta follow him, Nick.”

“I beg your pardon?” he chuckled. I didn’t reciprocate. “What, you’re serious?”

“You literally don’t breath.”

Nick glanced at the lake and made a noise, the same kind of noise I made whenever I had some bad mirelurk meat. 

“Oh…ugh!” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Fine! Gotta do everything myself these days…” I started taking off my boots.

“You really don’t, you know,” pointed out Valentine as I shoved the first boot into his arms, followed by the second. But I ignored him. Deezer’s lemonade was one of the Commonwealth’s greatest mysteries, and I was bound and determined to solve this case if it was the last thing I did. Besides, diving into a frigid lake in the middle of winter _still_ beat the hell out of hanging around Covenant, even if the generators worked and it was warm and there was running water…right?

Down to my boxers with my synthetic friend clutching my clothes, I inhaled, pumped my fists to center myself, hollered, “Let’s do this!” and dove in. Nothing was going to stop- “Fuckfuckfuckfuck that’s cold! Mistakes! Mistakes were made Nick!”

He rolled his eyes. “Jackass.”

“Hoo! No! I got this! Freezing water? Been through worse! No pants? That’s basically my life nowadays!” 

“And any mirelurks you may encounter?” 

“They’re just soft meat under a hard exterior, Valentine. I feel that.”

“I love a good metaphor as much as the next guy, but I doubt mirelurks share the same sentiment.”

Nice alliteration, but whatever. I offered only a wave before diving underneath the water. Thankfully I was a half-decent swimmer. I held my breath and dove down, down, down. It was so dark I could barely see. Valentine was probably right. There was nothing down there but mirelurks just waiting to eat me, right? 

Wrong.

As soon as I hit the light on my pipboy, I saw it. And I could _not_ believe my eyes. 

-

“Uh, thanks? What is it?” asked MacCready, trading me a cup of coffee for the spherical, yellow object. 

“This,” I said, Nick and I grinning at one another, lounging around on opposite beds in the bunkhouse from the safety of the rain, “is a lemon, MacCready. A real, honest-to-God lemon.”

He squeezed it. Held it in front of his face. Examined it. “But lemons are extinct, right?” He looked to Hancock. The ghoul blew some dust off his hat, set it on his head and shrugged. “I don’t believe you,” decided MacCready.

“It’s real, MacCready. Try it.”

“Kay…” he replied with caution. Hancock lent his knife to the merc who peeled it, handed back the tool, and stuck a yellow slice in his mouth. “Oh! That’s awful! _That’s_ a lemon?! It’s so sour! Where did you even get this?! And why are you wet and almost naked?!” 

“Hey, now. I can’t reveal _everything_ about myself. Gotta keep a little excitement in our relationship, don’t you think?” I teased him through clattering teeth. I was freezing my balls off.

“Oh come on! This is _real_ fruit! You gotta tell me how you got this, boss!”

I could have told MacCready about the weird, underwater vault; how everyone inside of it was dead; how the vault was an agricultural paradise, assuming you liked lemons; and how even though all of the vault-dwellers were over a century dead, Deezer - _fucking Deezer,_ of all people - managed to sneak off long enough to farm lemons. His lemonade? Made with real lemons, as advertised. 

We left that day, choosing not to settle Covenant. After all of the stress it was causing me, coupled with the nightmares and the anxiety, MacCready decided strongly against it. He wanted to live somewhere we could fall in love with together. That place would never be Covenant. But I figured with the lemon-vault, I could at least hook a few synth refugees and Minutemen settlers up with jobs as farmers or, I dunno, lemonade peddlers? _They’d_ settle Covenant. Besides, real fruit in the Commonwealth? Now _that_ was a step toward rebuilding.

“You know,” I said as the four of us headed toward Diamond City, “I’m glad our efforts were…_fruitful._”


	49. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Hancock discuss bedroom things while Nick and MacCready fight about dumb garbage that has no bearing on the plot. Hancock goes to Diamond City and talks politics. Loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to wish a very happy birthday to one of my readers, Lemo! Thank you for your lovely comments!! I hope you have an excellent birthday and a great holiday season!!! -Author guy Mike

By two in the afternoon, the four of us were well on our way to Diamond City. We had just crossed the Charles and were walking along the line of old, abandoned shops. MacCready and Valentine were up ahead having a heated debate.

Back when I was a double agent ‘working’ for the Institute, one of my missions involved going to Warwick Homestead and speaking to Roger, a synth double. His workers were getting suspicious, and Roger was afraid he’d be outed as a synth to his ‘family.’ I sought advice from several of my companions, MacCready and Valentine included. 

“You’re joking,” said Valentine, “Roger Warwick could have swayed the scarecrows to his side if he wanted to.”

“I don’t care if you’re metal or flesh, _no one_ should split apart your family,” argued MacCready.

“They _aren’t_ his family.”

“Aren’t they, though? Besides, you’re synth, don’t you, like, empathize or something?”

“Warwick replaced a good husband and father and continued to lie to his entire ‘family,’” he insisted, using air-quotes. “And he would have slaughtered them all if the Institute willed it. Roger hid his identity, but me? I’ve never claimed to be anything other than what I am, and on that note, I don’t appreciate being compared to a liar.”

“Oh for fu- er, for Christ’s sake! I wasn’t trying to compare you to anything! Why are you always so-”

“So.” Hancock flung an arm around my shoulder, slowing his pace. We both started to fall a ways behind our companions. “How’s little Nate doing?” 

I snickered. “Seriously, Hancock? You wanna talk about this now?”

“You can always tune back into the Nick and Bobby Show.” 

I glanced up ahead. “So you’re telling me,” said Valentine, voice rising in frustration, “that if Nate lied to you about being a human and ended up _actually_ being a synth double, working for the Institute the whole time, you wouldn’t feel put off?”

“It’s a moot point, the Institute’s gone!”

“Whether the Institute’s gone or not, my question stands: would you or would you not feel betrayed if your partner lied to you about who they are?”

“You’re making this about me when it should be about that Warwick guy.”

“I’m trying to see whether or not you’re capable of thinking about anyone other than yourself, which evidently-”

“Oh, _here_ we go!” bellowed MacCready. “Mr. synthetic goody two-shoes is gonna deliver his message of morals and good tidings like some boring social justice Santa Claus!”

I inhaled. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Hancock chuckled and pulled me closer. “Man, you must be dying, huh? Has it been two days? Three?”

“Three,” I grimaced. Then, I paused. Hancock’s free arm was flung across his middle. “Is your stomach bothering you?”

“Eh, just some rough anal.”

“Wait, when did you have time for anal?” I laughed.

“This morning, when you and Valentine were off doing god knows what.”

“And you were on the receiving end? _Again?_” He nodded. “What’s up with that, anyway? You’ve never bottomed before MacCready.”

“Sure, I’m Mac’s ‘bottom.’” Now it was his turn for air-quotes. 

“It doesn’t get you off?”

“Nah.”

“So why do it?”

“Makes him feel like he’s in control, powerful. It’s a good outlet for him. Sometimes, I think he gets so depressed and angry at the world that he doesn’t know what to do with his emotions. The kid needs an outlet. Never thought that outlet would be my asshole, but hey.” Hancock paused. “Keep this between us, will ya? He really gets off on topping.”

“Sure. Whatever makes you guys happy.” I wrapped an arm around his waist, his own arm still perched on my shoulder. “So what _are_ you into, Hancock? I mean, I have a good idea, but really lay it out for me.”

“What can I say? I love degrading and denying you, Sunshine. MacCready, too, but that’s more the denial than the degradation. I kinda feel bad about humiliating MacCready…”

“Well, he _is_ more inexperienced.”

“Exactly. Wouldn’t mind exploring the humiliation factor a little more, but I’d rather do it with all parties present.”

“Why?” 

“Dunno. Guess it’d make me feel better having a ‘veteran’ of sorts around, if you feel me.” 

“So I can sort of guide him through it?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He paused and looked out at the water. “Hey, did I take it too far last night?”

“I…” My words trailed off. Suddenly, my cheeks felt hot. I remembered Hancock’s fingers crammed down my throat, feeling helpless as he forced me to gag and endure him until I couldn’t anymore. I remembered staring down at Hancock, the faint glow of his cum glistening at the tip of hic cock, and…oh Christ it embarrasses me to even acknowledge this…a little bit of spit up around his fingers and on his hips. I cleared my throat and looked away. 

“Wow, never seen you like this. Not after one of our sessions.” 

“I think maybe…maybe I’d like to hold off. On, uh, on _that._ Especially not around MacCready, you know.” 

“Back burner it is. Got plenty of other ways to humiliate you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” I smiled. 

“Hold up!” shouted Hancock. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. He paused in front of Back Street Apparel, releasing me and walking through the front door. “Wait here. Be back in a second.”

“Okay. Gotta take a leak anyway,” said MacCready.

“No,” replied Hancock, abrupt and curt. MacCready opened his mouth to protest, but the ghoul was slamming the door shut behind him before the mercenary could say anything.

“O…kay…?” shrugged MacCready. “Guess I won’t, then?”

I snickered. Oh Jesus. What was Hancock going to do to MacCready?

-

Once we arrived in Diamond City, an ecstatic Piper came bounding up to me. It was nice to see her. I liked the way she had her hair cut short like that, poking out of her press cap. It was curlier than I remembered. Cute. I opened my arms to hug her when I realized she wasn’t headed for me at all.

“Nicky!” she flung her arms around the synth and he reciprocated.

“Glad to see you too, Miss Wright.”

“Oh, hey guys. Anyway, Nicky, you have _got_ to see the paper! My latest story…”

She hauled him off, arm draped around his waist. Huh. Nick and Piper. Something I had begun to suspect around Christmas but hadn’t followed up on. I saw Nick look over his shoulder and give a little wave. I waved back. Then, his arm fell around her shoulder.

“I ship it,” I said. I glanced down at my Pipboy. It was four in the afternoon, and since it was winter, it was going to be dark soon. If MacCready and I (along with our illustrious tagalong, who spent the whole trip with a sultry smirk hanging on his face) intended to test out Home Plate, we would need the key from Geneva. 

Where did she hang out these days? The mayor’s office was closed. In fact, that’s the only reason Hancock felt comfortable coming through the front gates. What were people gonna do about it? Tell dead Mayor McDonough on him? And I think part of Hancock liked giving the guards a rise. He was already getting stares from umpires and Upper Stands residents. 

We headed over to the Dugout to formulate a plan which didn’t end up being needed. Geneva was sitting right there at the bar deep in her drink. “Acting Mayor Geneva,” I greeted.

“Ugh,” she replied. “Please. I can’t wait until this election is over.” She had the look of a woman who was tired of dealing with Diamond City’s bullshit. Suddenly, Hancock caught her eye. She did a double-take.

“Problem?” He folded his arms across his chest.

Geneva looked like she was deciding whether or not it was worth her time to make this an issue. I’m guessing she had bigger fish to fry these days, because she said, “Not if you don’t cause one, John.” Riiight. I had almost forgotten they had known each other through Hancock’s brother. “Now, what can I do for you, general? I’m off work.”

I answered. “Was thinking about buying a house in the city. Home Plate still available?”

“Yes, although I can’t sell to…” she gestured at Hancock.

“Gimme a break, sister,” grunted Hancock, “I wouldn’t live here again if my immortal life depended on it.”

She ignored his quip. “It’s five thousand caps.”

“What, you’re not going to vet me, or?” I asked, gesturing vaguely with my hand.

“I know who you are. General of the Minutemen. Elder to the Brotherhood before you double-crossed them. Vanquisher of the Institute.” She did jazz hands that time just to add a little flourish. “Just don’t bring your drama into the city and you can buy whatever house you damn well please.”

“Actually, I was hoping to test it out tonight, see if it’s a good fit for me and my partner.” I nudged MacCready.

“Yeah,” he added. “We’re thinking of raising a family here, so…”

“Cute. Whatever. Key’s in my drawer in the office. Help yourselves.”

“Seriously?” I laughed.

“Hey, as soon as this election is over, I’m out. Say what you will about McDonough, but when I worked for him, my job was nice and easy. I was never meant to run a city.”

“Nah, just your mouth,” added Hancock.

Geneva glowered. “What would you know, John?”

Hancock just smiled, tilted his head to the side, and said, “About your mouth? Plenty, sweetheart. Don’t you remember? There ain’t enough Abraxo Cleaner in the Commonwealth that coulda got that cumstain out of your-”

“Oh just take the key!” she wailed.

-

_“Hey, no ghouls allowed in Diamond City.”_

“Tell it to the mayor.”

_“Man, what’s wrong with your face?”_

“Your mom ask you the same question?”

_“Diamond City is really losing its standards.”_

“Couldn’t agree more. They hired you, right?”

_“Nice face, dillhole!” _ Two tiny feet pitter-pattered away, a trail of laughter lingering in the air.

“Okay, I’m running out of comebacks,” said Hancock. “I’ve got no problem insulting the guards, but what do you say to a little kid?”

“I dunno,” said MacCready, poking a stray noodle at the bottom of his bowl with his chopstick. It was a clear, chilly night in January. Man, the noodle shop sure was crowded. “He called you a dillhole, Hancock. That’s pretty much the ultimate insult.”

Hancock scowled and went back to eating his Power Noodles. We were all starving after a long day’s journey. MacCready was usually on his third or fourth bowl by the time I was finished with my first, but today, he had barely finished one.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He leaned over and whispered into my ear, “Hancock _still_ won’t let me take a piss.”

“And you’re putting up with this…why?”

MacCready sat up straight. “Huh. Actually, I don’t know. I guess I just want to make him happy.”

“All it’s doing is getting him off, idiot.”

“I know that!” he hissed. “It’s not really my thing, but why not try it, right? I mean, _I_ don’t get the appeal, but…” 

“Jesus Christ, you two really need to communicate better,” I said out loud. Each of them looked in my direction, but before I could elaborate, a familiar voice not unsimilar to nails on a chalkboard erupted from behind.

“My word! And what business does someone like _you_ have in the Great Green Jewel?”

“Could ask you the same question, lady,” retorted Hancock. At first, the insults were amusing, but he looked like he was at the end of his rope. He obviously wasn’t interested in getting shit on by some old karen with a poorly dyed bob. 

“Why, _I_ am an Upper Stands resident, dare I say, _veteran!_ You wouldn’t possibly understand. And mark my words, when Anne Codman is elected mayor, she will see to it that Diamond City’s morals are respected to the utmost degree!”

“The fuck is Anne Codman?” asked Hancock, totally deadpan. 

She was on fire in an instant. “You know _precisely_ who I am, you, you, you mongrel! Now why don’t you crawl back into gutter from whence you came, you feral.”

“Wait, Annie?” Hancock stood up from his stool and spun around to face her. He took off his hat, revealing his bald, withered head. “Annie! It’s me! Johnny-H!”

“I…I don’t know who-”

“Come onnn sweetheart, don’t be modest. You and I had some fun times before I turned ghoul. How’s Clarence, anyway? He still…oh, what’d you call him…erectilly-challenged?”

The tall, older man behind Mrs. Codman looked furious. Mortified. “Anne? Is this…is this true?!”

“Oh shit,” gasped Hancock. “Is this him? You mean you never told him about our…” The mayor threw his hands up. “Sorry, man. She swore she was gonna tell you. I mean, it was like a six-month-long thing we had going, so I figured she woulda spilled the beans at some point. Anyway, good luck on the election, Annie. You’re still looking as lovely as the day I bent you over the railing of the stands and plowed you til the brahmin came home.”

“ANNE!” screeched Clarence.

“No! I didn’t! I-I-I would never!”

“BACK TO THE HOUSE! NOW!”

The Codmans stomped off, but before she was out of sight, Anne looked over her shoulder. “This is _not_ over.”

“Oh, I think it is,” rasped Hancock, returning to his noodles.

Everyone was staring. _Everyone._ Moe Cronin. Polly the butcher. Even Travis passed by and was furiously taking notes on a pad of paper. Oh man, I couldn’t _wait_ to hear that radio special! 

“So, is it true?” I asked. “Did you actually have an affair with Anne Codman?”

“Fuck no,” answered Hancock, putting his hat back on his head, tipping back his bowl, and finishing the contents of his ramen. He belched and set the dish down. “Just wanted to see that bitch taken down a notch.” A couple people actually laughed. The guy at the end even clapped. “Anne Codman for mayor,” he scoffed. “I’d sooner cast my vote for Nick Valentine.”

“He’s a _synth,_” hissed Myrna. I hadn’t even seen her down there.

“So what?” said Moe. “He’s been here just as long as that Codman lady, and _she_ wasn’t the one who went all the way out to the Westing Estate with _this_ guy,” he pointed to me, “to hook me up with that baseball memorabilia. I’d give Nicky my vote.”

“Yeah, Anne’s a bitch,” agreed Polly. “Not like a guy made of metal has any reason to buy meat, but at least he doesn’t come around my shop and talk trash about my cuts.”

“Let me tell you, Codman don’t understand nothin’ about livin’ in the field,” added Moe.

“I sleep on a mattress out by the farm,” said the guy at the end. “The _Codman’s_ farm, mind you, and they don’t even try to make life livable for us drifters. At least Valentine cares about us. He gave me some purified water, once.”

“He’s a good guy,” I said. “Been working with Nick for, oh, over a year now? Best guy I know.”

Hancock hummed. “You know, that ain’t a half-bad idea. Has a nice ring to it, anyway. ‘Nick Valentine for mayor.’”

“Heh!” chuckled Moe. “Mayor Valentine. A synth mayor. Wouldn’t that be somethin’?”

“_He’s…a…**synth!**_”

“Oh shaddup Myrna,” barked MacCready. “You’d seriously rather elect Anne Codman? Maybe she’s made of flesh and blood, but she’s _way_ colder than Valentine.”

“At least she’s human!” cried Myrna.

“Gimma a break, lady,” groaned Hancock. “If you pulled the stick out of that old prune’s ass, you’d be able to vault all the way from here to Goodneighbor.”

“And _why_ would anyone wanna go to Goodneighbor?” 

“To get away from Anne Codman.” 

The entire noodle shop erupted into a fit of laughter. More people were crowding around. One woman, lost somewhere in the sea of onlookers who _totally_ wasn’t Piper, I’m sure, disguised her voice and hollered, “Nick Valentine for mayor 2290!” 

A few people cheered. Wow, was this really happening? To answer my question, Hancock hoisted himself up onto the counter with expert balance and faced the crowd. Uh oh. I smelled a speech coming on. He held up his hands. Everybody fell silent.

“Let me ask you somethin’, Diamond City: do you know who the real enemy is?”

Silence. Then, “The Institute?”

“Nah, brother,” said Hancock, “though they were real sticks in the mud, huh? No. The _real_ enemy is watching us from the Stands right now. The _real_ enemy is Anne…Fucking…Codman,” Some people turned to face the stands. Sure enough, a sentient bob was watching us from up above. “Anne Codman, and everything she represents. And do you know what that is?” 

Silence. 

“Lies. Tell me, have you ever for a day in your lives questioned who or what Detective Valentine is? No. Because he tells it like it is. But can you really say the same for Anne Codman?” 

More silence. 

“Of course you can’t. Same with McDonough, and same with half the assholes literally living above you because they think they’re more worthy of Diamond City than you. Now, I’m not sure if you noticed my face,” a couple people laughed at his joke, “but I’m a ghoul, a ghoul who was kicked out of Diamond City for being who I am. Well let me tell you somethin’ important: it don’t matter who someone is, whether they’re a human, synth, ghoul, hell, even a supermutant. What matters is that they’re straight with you, that you know who your neighbor is. You wanna put Diamond City’s future in the hands of someone who’s gonna insult your meat?” he looked at Polly. “Who won’t give you the time of day?” he looked at Moe. “Who looks down on you because of how many caps you’ve got in your pocket, because you like to relax and drink shitty moonshine at the Dugout? Hey Vadim.” 

Vadim, who had joined the crowd, laughed and flipped Hancock the bird.

“Mark my words, Anne Codman is gonna smile and shake your hand to get your vote, and just like that…she’s gonna go right back to insulting you, shitting on the way you live your lives. No one deserves to put up with that kind of shit. You want to elect a _real_ mayor? Someone you know cares about you? Your shops? Your families? Your kids? Who’s not gonna treat you any different because you live in the field or the stands? Then you vote Nick Valentine into office. He might be made of metal, but he’s still more attractive than any one of those people up there in the stands. Hell, I’d do him.” Another round of laughter.

Hancock stood up tall, puffed out his chest, and yelled, “NICK VALENTINE FOR MAYOR!”

“Hell yeah!” shouted MacCready, joining Hancock probably just because it looked fun at the time. “Nick Valentine: improving Diamond City case-by-case! Get it? ‘Cause he’s a detective?”

The crowd went crazy. Cheering and shouting and clapping. Sure, a couple guards and Crazy Myrna weren’t having it, but screw them. Even I was clapping. God damn, Hancock, way to work up a crowd! There was only one issue with this entire thing…

“You did _what?!_” shouted Valentine. He tossed his case file onto the desk, glaring at me and Hancock and MacCready and Piper. I had never seen him so angry.

“Uh, yeah, sooo…” Piper blushed, “…you’re kind of running for mayor now. But hey! They _love_ you! And you’re gonna beat the pants off of Anne Codman!” His glare intensified. “Come on Nicky, please?” Piper walked over to his desk, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “Sleep on it for me?”

“Hrm…” he grumbled. “I’ll sleep on it, but you four aren’t off the hook. It’s common courtesy to ask a man before you take his hat and toss it into the ring like that.”

“We would never take away your hat, Valentine,” said MacCready, “no one’d vote for you if they saw your ugly mug without it.”

Was steam coming out of his ears? I think steam was coming out of his ears.


	50. Home Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, MacCready and Hancock get down and dirty at Home Plate. Nate reminds Hancock that he's mortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter touches on at least a few kinks, and if you're averse to pee, this might not be your thing. These three gentlemen will have more vanilla sex in the future.

“Kay, Hancock, where are you going with this? Because I’ve _really_ gotta go.”

“Just a few more minutes, MacCready,” said the ghoul, shutting the door behind him. “So this is Home Plate, huh? Eh. It’s kind of a dud.”

I set my bag on the floor and rounded the corner of the…of the…what _was_ that? A trash heap? What was with all the cinderblocks and traffic cones? Sheesh. No wonder nobody wanted this place. Still: electricity, plumbing, heating. I immediately went to crank up the thermostat. I couldn’t believe it worked. 

I walked past the Nuka Cola machine and the umbrella table and flopped on the single, black couch amidst the junk. Whew. Well, at least we had somewhere to sleep for the night. 

Poor MacCready looked like he was about to explode. Man, I would _not_ have put up with someone telling me when I can and cannot piss. Why was he doing this to himself? I mean, Hancock was a great dom and all, but this? Come on. 

MacCready threw his bag down next to mine and started to pace around. “Alright man, you’ve had your fun. I’m gonna go pee now.” 

“Not yet you aren’t,” rumbled the ghoul, digging through his own bag until he pulled out the vibrator. MacCready’s eyes shot wide open.

“Oh no, you aren’t trying to make me-”

“Piss yourself, yeah. Like back at the marina.”

“That was…” MacCready swallowed and lowered his voice. “Hancock, that was humiliating…”

“Not as humiliating as wearing these.” He tossed a pair of white, women’s panties at him. MacCready had no idea what to do or say. Neither did I by the time Hancock tossed a pair of pink ones over to me. Mine even had lace. I immediately laughed.

“HA! No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, Hancock! I’m not wearing women’s lingerie, damn.”

Hancock pulled out the crop. I stopped laughing. “You were saying?”

I inhaled, sighed, and started taking my pants off. 

“Oh come on, boss!” shouted MacCready. “You’re giving in that easily?” He cheek was met by the harsh sting of Hancock’s crop. “Ow!” 

“Stop bitching and put on the clothes I gave you. I got you both here safely, so I think I’ve earned a little me-time. Don’t you think?” The merc shuddered as Hancock used the crop to lift MacCready’s chin. “Be a good little boy and do what I tell you to. If you do…” he squeezed MacCready’s crotch, getting a soft gasp in response, “then I’ll reward you.” 

A minute or two later, MacCready and I were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, him in nothing but a pair of white panties and me in my pink ones. MacCready was nervous so he was still soft, but me? I’d been needing to get off for days. I was already hard as a rock.

“Damn,” said MacCready, staring down at my bulge.

Hancock took my dick in his hands and gave me a couple of pumps. Even that felt amazing. I couldn’t wait until he really started touching me, assuming he wasn’t going to deny me again. He tucked me back in and gave me a pat. “Good,” he said, dressed down to his t-shirt and jeans, “now stand up.” I did. “Rub on the back of the couch nice and slow. Don’t want you to get too excited and miss out on the show…” He sat on the middle cushion, hoisting MacCready’s legs over his own legs, flicking on the vibrator. MacCready swallowed hard. In the meantime, I did as Hancock commanded, pressing my clothed hard-on against the back of the couch and shifting my weight against it. Mm.

Hancock brought the vibrator down on MacCready’s groin. A look of concern washed over his face. I’m guessing he really needed to pee and that vibrator must have been torture. Still, I loved that tortured look, so I let myself enjoy the view and rolled my hips against the back of the couch; if MacCready hated it, he’d use the safeword.

Hancock readjusted MacCready’s semi so that I could see its vertical outline through his panties. He then moved the vibrator in hard circles around his balls. The merc tilted his head back and whined. I couldn’t tell if he was feeling good or bad. Me? I was feeling great. My own balls were pressed right up against the hard edge of the sofa and it was amazing.

The vibrator traced up, up, up his dick until Hancock squished MacCready’s head with it. He clicked a button and the vibrations increased. Another whine, and this time, a slight stir of his cock.

“This f-f-feels weird…” said MacCready.

“Talk to me, kid. How does it feel?” Hancock cupped MacCready’s balls with his off-hand through the panties and held the vibrator against his head, slowly torturing him.

“I dunno, I…I’ve never been horny and had to pee before…_ohhh!_” He shifted his hips. 

“There we go. Feel every…” he rubbed the vibrator along his length, “…last…” and again, “…vibration,” and again.

I saw MacCready’s chest heave, hips rocking against the toy. He leaned his head back and winced. It was _weirdly_ hot, MacCready trapped in between pleasure and discomfort like that. I slowed down my thrusts. I was getting there a little too fast and I didn’t want to piss of Hancock. 

“C’mere, Sunshine. Sit on the couch.”

I stopped rocking and immediately felt the longing sensation of absence. Fuck. I wanted friction so bad. I sucked it up and sat on the couch, fully rigid inside of my…ugh…my panties.

Hancock stopped working up MacCready and said, “Sunshine, lie down. MacCready, ride him.” The mayor got up and left us to do his bidding. I stretched my legs over the couch with my head leaning back on the arm while MacCready crawled on top of me. I immediately had to stifle a moan. I was so goddamn hard, built up for three days, edging at times, and MacCready’s weight in my lap, his dick against mine was almost too much.

“Well well, the boss looks real happy, doesn’t he?” said Hancock, kneeling behind MacCready on the couch. “Edge him, but don’t let him cum.”

“O-okay,” gasped MacCready, grinding down on my dick.

“Ah…” I moaned. Well shit. So much for keeping the volume down. 

The mayor reached around and pushed the vibrator in between MacCready’s cock and mine. Both he and I groaned, and MacCready immediately picked up the pace. He was already getting close. I could tell by the way he was mewling, longing to grind against something. God, he was easy. 

Suddenly, MacCready shouted, “Whoa!” Hancock increased the volume and jiggled the toy against MacCready’s dick. It was still bumping against mine, but he was mostly focused on getting MacCready off. And on top of that, Hancock used his other arm to squeeze MacCready’s stomach. The kid’s _whoa_ extended into a long, deep moan, followed by, “oh sh- oh crap boss, he’s gonna make me…” 

He couldn’t even finish his own sentence. MacCready was so embarrassed, face bright red, already sweaty and horny and so, so confused. Hancock’s hard grip around his middle was forcing him to keep rocking against me and the vibrator. 

“I’m trying to hold it,” he whined.

“Don’t,” I said. 

“B-but-”

“Hancock.” I looked at the ghoul, then gestured back down to the vibrator. He chuckled and clicked the button twice. The toy sounded like a goddamn power tool now. He circled MacCready’s head with it until the blond was left moaning and fussing on top of me. The toy moved up and down his now hard dick, coaxing out these beautiful, shy noises. 

Finally, MacCready flung his head to the side. “I’m sorry!” Hancock got exactly what he wanted. A spot of wetness started at the top of the panties and spread down and down, all the way to his taint. I could hear his accident coming in little spurts, peeing for one or two seconds here, another couple seconds there, stream hindered by his hard-on. All the while, Hancock tortured and tortured his dick. 

MacCready’s panties were soaked. And never for a second did he stop panting and moaning. I just about lost it when he tossed his head back and jerked his hips forward. Cum bubbled up through the mesh and leaked down the front of his crotch, dribbling onto my clothed dick. 

“Oh, baby,” I moaned, sitting up, reaching out, and grabbing his hips. 

Hancock kept squeezing his middle and teasing him with the toy while I moved his hips. He finished peeing and kept ejaculating, moving his hips until he panted, “Stop…stop…”

Not the safeword, but Hancock obliged this time. He shut off the vibrator, pulled MacCready’s panties down, and grabbed his spent dick. 

“Oh my god,” he groaned.

Hancock started pumping MacCready. Instead of jerking his head to the side, he actually moaned again. He was still hard and red, wet from his accident and from his own cum. Hancock was slipping his fist around his erection, fingers slamming against the mercenary’s balls and shooting back up to his head over and over. 

He was panting like crazy. “Ah…ah!” He wrenched his face up and came again, shooting onto my chest and dribbling all over my stomach. 

“Holy shit, man,” laughed Hancock. 

Once MacCready was spent for the second time, he batted away Hancock’s hand, breathing like he was about to pass out. Hancock normally would have punished MacCready for something like that, but I think he was sympathetic toward his poor, overworked cock. But MacCready was _still_ hard, still longing. He gripped his cock in his hands and started masturbating over me.

“Is this happening?” I asked, jaw agape and feeling really, _really_ horny myself.

MacCready jerked himself harder and harder, faster and faster. I watched his wristwatch become a blur he was pumping so fast. This time, he eased his hips forward, lining his shot up, and when he released with another moan, I was hit in the chin with his cum. He pumped himself to completion, running his fist over his head to catch that last bit of juice before panting, pulling himself off the couch, and saying, “Buffout. Alright. You’re up, Hancock.” 

We watched MacCready waddle off, presumably to go to the bathroom up the stairs. I bet he felt lucky there was hot, running water. Dude was _covered_ in piss and cum. He turned the corner and vanished out of sight. 

Hancock and I stared at each other in mutual silence. We had no idea what to say. MacCready had been so hesitant and suddenly just…came three times?! I had never done that. I doubted Hancock ever had, either. I mean, _nobody_ did that, at least not outside of those x-rated holotapes, and those were fake as hell, right?

Hancock glanced over at the stairs, then back at me. “So where were we?”

“Right. Um.” I looked down. My cock twitched. “I know I’m covered in pee, but is that like, a deterrent for you, or?”

“Not a whole lot deters me, man.”

“Figured as much. You know, I feel like we really shared a moment just now.”

“Heh. You’re telling me. Anyway, were you asking for a blowjob, or?”

I nodded. 

“Eh. I dunno…” he scratched his chin. “I feel like after denying you for three days, sucking your cock is kinda…anticlimactic?”

“It’s _climactic._ That’s the point.”

“Can I at least put the cockring on you first?”

“You brought it?” 

“Sunshine, I brought _everything._”

I laughed and watched the ghoul get up and retrieve the cock ring. He slipped me out of my…urgh…_panties…_ and used them to wipe the piss off of me. If it wasn’t such a weird, kinky thing, it would have been sweet. He then gripped my dick and applied the ring. I was harder in seconds.

He just watched me for a while, lying there with my dick twitching between my legs. It was getting red and swollen. I looked into Hancock’s dark, starry eyes, listening to the sounds of bath water running up the stairs, and gently thrusting my hips against nothing. “Like what you see, John?”

He chuckled. “I do. Do it again.”

I did. I moved my hips into the air while my cock pulsed. I licked my lips and moaned just for him. I wanted to feel him so badly, and I didn’t care how. Maybe he could stick it in my ass. Maybe he could blow me. Maybe he could kiss me and just rub on me. Anything at all and I would have been satisfied. 

Instead, he took the crop from off of the floor and gently ran it along my belly. I trembled. Ooh, he was gonna beat the shit out of me, wasn’t he? _CRACK!_ I moaned and shuddered. A long, red mark revealed itself against my pale flesh in an instant. “Oh fuck!” 

“What’s the matter? Too much?”

I shook my head no.

“Good, because I’m just getting started…” 

_CRACK!!_

“Ahhh, please, no!”

“Please yes.” 

_CRACK!!!_

“Hancock! Ah!” I gasped for air. Oh Christ, that one really took the wind out of me. My belly stung so bad. 

** _CRACK!!!! CRACK!!!! CRACK!!!!_ **

I cried out in agony and writhed, hips moving one way, spine another way, head tilted back with sweat on my brow. Yes! Bruise me! Leave marks! Beat the ever-loving shit out of me and take me! I deserve it! 

He ran a rough hand down my middle. His fingertips left sharp tingles on all of the marks. It stung so bad that my breath left my lungs completely. I gasped, head lulling to the side as dizziness overtook me, followed by a hard wave of nausea. “Urk…buffout…” 

“Alright, you’re alright…” Hancock bent over me and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. It was uncomfortable at first considering my stomach had lodged itself in my throat, but the feeling quickly subsided. I was right back in my happy place. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, shoving my tongue into his mouth and down his throat. 

He kissed me so passionately that I almost came right then and there. I guess my little moans must have tipped him off, though, because he stopped and pulled back, leaving me whining and longing. My dick was so hard, and he was such, _such_ a tease.

He didn’t blow me, but he did give my cock one, hard lick that made my hips stir. One tug of my dick, then another, and he released me, leaving me straining inside of the ring.

“Flex a little for me.”

I did. I clenched my floor muscles and my erection throbbed inside of the ring. 

“Again.”

I did. It throbbed and pulsed. “Ohhh fuck…” My arm involuntarily came to rest across my eyes. I couldn’t even look at myself down there I was so hot. I felt Hancock’s finger glide up my underside. I shuddered, “Oh god, I’m gonna cum…!”

“Not a chance.”

“Fuck…!”

He released me back onto my belly and I inhaled. How was I gonna keep it together? Well, somehow I did, for a long, long time. Long enough for MacCready to take a bath, come back downstairs, and get _his_ dick sucked. I watched in jealous agony as Hancock dipped his head between the merc’s legs with his lean calves slung up over the ghoul’s shoulder. MacCready moaned and moaned, every last inch of him buried in that terrible man’s delicious mouth.

“Hancock, you’re gonna…you’re gonna make me…”

Hancock’s bald head bobbed. Even the noises were making me hot. I could tell that he was balls-deep, because MacCready had that starry look in his eyes, and Hancock was _really_ going to town, arms clenched around either of MacCready’s thighs. 

“You’re making me cum! Ahhh!” 

Hancock swallowed whatever there was left of MacCready to swallow after his three-time streak from earlier. The ghoul wiped his mouth and kissed MacCready on the lips. I watched them kiss for minutes, grinding on each other and dry humping like the world was going to end again if they stopped.

“Hancock, will you please pay attention to me instead?”

Hancock flipped me off and ground down on MacCready’s leg. MacCready was moaning, but this time, I could tell he was just doing it to piss me off. He was naked and wet after his shower, towel slung over his shoulder. His long, blond hair was let down around his shoulders, too, and he looked like an angel. I wanted to fuck him. Suck him. Cum all over him and make a mess of him again.

I was aching so bad. So, so, _so_ bad. Why was I letting them torture me like this? Seriously. Why?!

“ENOUGH!” I shouted, and snagged Hancock’s shoulders, tackling him off of MacCready and onto the ground with my nails digging into his flesh. 

Hancock growled, baring his teeth. “Get off’a me!”

“Heh, like you say, Hancock: _not…a…**chance!**_”

I reached for his pants. He immediately shoved me off and tossed me back into the couch. Ah, my back! I growled back at him, charging him and slamming him against the ground again. This time, I held his chest down with my forearm. And that asshole _actually_ had the audacity to slam his forehead into mine.

I saw stars. When I opened my eyes, the mayor was dragging me to my feet, slamming me against the nearest metal support pillar. Shit! My frigging back! But despite the pain, there was no way in hell I was going to let him win. Not today. I snatched his jaw and flipped him around, shoving _him_ against the pillar instead. 

We struggled, each of us reaching for the other while I tried to unbutton his pants. I was strong, easily overpowering him and squeezing him against the pillar, but Hancock was fast, dodging me and getting a couple of good hits into my ribs. Now _that_ hurt.

Blood poured down my nose from that hit I took to the face. I must have looked a sight, snarling and bloody and livid. Somehow, I managed to get his pants undone. Great, now I just needed to…

He punched me. _Punched me._ Right across the jaw. Who the fuck even does that?! I held my face in my hands with a look of shock. “Did you just hit me, dude?”

“Try again and I’ll make it double.”

“Whoa,” intervened MacCready, “is this for real? This looks way too real to be a kink…”

Hancock and I questioned that ourselves. I could tell he did too, because he had the same look in his eyes that I did. Hard, angry, fuming…and wanting. 

We lunged for each other at the same time, scrapping all over the workshop. I shoved him into the Nuka Cola machine, and he flipped me over his shoulder right into the edge of a cinderblock. Pain shot through my side like never before. My vision turned white. But hell, I was still seeing red. I shook my head and tackled his legs, sending us both back to the floor. 

Things broke. Boards snapped. Glass shattered. His shirt ripped. There was blood and bruises and grunting and shouting. 

Then, finally, _finally,_ I punched him across the face so hard that he collided with the ground. I spun him over, jerked his pants down, and mounted him. Hancock moaned a weary, injured sort of moan and tried to get back to his feet. Before he could, I spit in my hand, gave myself a stroke, and lined myself up with his asshole. 

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE MACCREADY!” shouted Hancock.

MacCready didn’t respond, he just left. A wise move. Today was the day I topped. I wasn’t just beating his butt with a stick like I did in Far Harbor, I was _taking_ him; his dignity, his pride, and his ass. 

I didn’t even stretch him out. He didn’t deserve it. Not after denying me constantly for days at a time. Who the fuck did he think he was, anyway? He wasn’t so tough! Not anymore. Look at him, lying there on his hands and knees, trembling, taking it, letting me thrust my aching cock into that tight little hole of his. I jerked myself inside of him again and again. 

“Say you love me.”

“I love you, baby,” he whimpered, voice shaky and ragged. “I love you so much it kills me.”

I slammed my hips against his craggy ass. He felt so good, so warm around my cock. Orgasm tugged at my balls. I wasn’t going to able to stop myself. “If you love me so much then cum. Right now,” I commanded.

“C-c-couldn’t stop if-if-if I t-t-tried!” he wheezed. And boy was he serious. He gave himself one, maybe two pumps of his dick before irradiated cum splashed all over the ground. I gave one hard, final grunt, and joined him, unloading three long days worth of cum inside of his ass. Our gasps came out like screams, each of us riding our orgasms until we were out of breath.

I pulled my cock out and watched the ejaculate ooze down Hancock’s taint. I quickly shoved a finger back inside of him and watched him stir underneath me, giving a raspy moan. I curled my thumb inside of him and laughed. “You see that mess you made? You feel _this?_” I dug my digit so far inside of him that he shivered. “Next time you think about denying me for that long, look back on today and remember what I’m capable of. Now make me a fucking sandwich.” I pulled my thumb out with a slick pop.

“We…we…we don’t got…we don’t got anything to make a sandwich with…” he panted. 

“Well then…I dunno, grab me some Sugar Bombs.”

“C-can’t. Deacon…he ate them all.”

“Well…” I scoffed. “I’m hungry and I’m trying to be domineering. Don’t make this awkward, man.”


	51. The New Mayor of Diamond City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready head over to the field to watch the mayoral debate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Partners_ lives! Apologies. I've been writing a bunch of kinky erotica which has completely sidetracked me.

Hancock made me some insta-mash, tucked his tail between his legs, and dipped. Eh, he’d be back. MacCready and I spent the next week in Diamond City contemplating whether or not to actually move into Home Plate. First, we decided to give it another night. We ordered noodles and sat around listening to holotapes. In the morning, we still weren’t sure, so we did it again. We picked up some moonshine from the Dugout and went back to the house and slept on it. A week later, Geneva showed up at the door.

“I’m going to start charging you rent. Are you buying or not?”

MacCready and I exchanged glances, each of us as uncertain as the other. I think settling down anywhere scared MacCready, especially after losing his wife and child…not to mention the time he thought he lost me. I was apprehensive because the last time I settled down, I ended up selling my house and storing away my boat.

“One more day,” I promised Geneva. “I swear we’ll have an answer by tomorrow.” Besides, that’d give us time to clean up the snack cake wrappers, noodle bowls, and cum stains. Relenting took no effort, so that’s precisely what she did.

The next foggy morning, MacCready and I headed outside to grab breakfast. Crowds were scurrying toward the field. We shot each other a look and silently followed. Travis was setting up a couple of mics on the stage where Anne Codman and Nick Valentine were standing. Oh, that’s right. Today was the debate. The debate that would end with the voting of the new mayor. 

MacCready and I took our seats all the way up front to the left. My partner did so with a grunt. “Your gun shoulder bothering you?” I asked as the candidates tested their mics for Travis who was broadcasting the debate. 

“Uh uh. Headache.” 

“How come?” I teased his hair. Today it fell around his shoulders. It was nice and clean. Thank god for that bath.

He swatted my hand aside.

“Jeez. What?”

“Nothing, I just don’t wanna be touched right now.”

“Okay…?” 

His brows furrowed. “Stop overthinking things. Seriously. I’m just in a bad mood. Nothin’ to do with you.”

“If you say so.” 

I focused my attention back to the stage. Geneva was dressed to the nines. “Good morning, Diamond City. Please welcome our candidates for mayor, Anne Codman, upper stands resident, as well as Detective Nick Valentine.” Claps and boos were aimed at both sides. That was Diamond City for you; real mixed crowd. “Please direct your questions to your candidate of choice, who will have thirty seconds to respond before turning over the floor to their opponent for a rebuttal. When the debate is concluded, you’ll be free to cast your votes. And please, _please_ vote, because holy shit, I’m so over this. Now, first qu-”

“You’re a _synth!_” interrupted Myrna. Even Piper and Clarence – Valentine and Codman’s respective campaign managers – exchanged eye rolls. 

Valentine cleared his throat. “Can you phrase that in the form of a question, please?” He was obviously over it, too. He had been ever since he found out he was running. In fact, he wasn’t going to do it at first. After sleeping on it as promised, he decided firmly against it. That is…until Codman insulted his tie.

“How can we trust you?!” shrieked Myrna.

“Myrna, you already know I’m made of nuts and bolts. The Institute’s gone, so you don’t need to harbor any fear toward my being controlled.” He spoke calmly. Coolly. Concisely. “You have every right to be afraid after what the Institute put this city through, what they did to our families and friends, but believe me when I say I understand that fear. I know it’s because you care about Diamond City, and while we might not have much in common, I happen to share that sentiment. You and I? We just want Diamond City to feel safe. Isn’t that right, Myrna?”

She paused. Blinked. “Yeah…well…I guess so…”

“Oh please!” snorted Codman. “You don’t understand fear; you don’t even have a beating heart.”

“Always did appreciate an even playing field,” retorted Valentine. Snickers came from the audience.

“Okay, next question! I have to be home by noon to clear out my desk,” groused Geneva. “Yes, you there, the guy with the visor who I totally don’t get my jet from.”

Solomon the chem dealer asked, “Yeah, are you, like cool with letting in ghouls again, or…? Because they’re my top buyers.”

“Absolutely not!” Codman slammed her fist into her palm. “Diamond City has standards – or at least it should – and I intend to see that through. Diamond City’s economy is human-run; ghouls are better off in Goodneighbor where they belong, and Diamond City has never, nor shall ever, lean on Hancock and his heathens.” A repulsive amount of clapping came from the audience.

“You know, a lot of those heathens came from Diamond City,” argued Nick after the crowd settled. “Besides, what about the Slog? About all those Minutemen settlements? There are plenty of good, hard-working folks out there who happen to be ghouls. Give me one good reason we shouldn’t at least trade with them.”

“Standards,” she repeated. “Self-reliance. Honor. Pride.” More cheering.

“She’s just using buzzwords!” shouted Piper. “Are you guys seriously going to fall for that?! You’re better than that!”

“No, darling,” Anne smiled like a toad, “we’re better than resorting to opening our gates to ghouls and electing synthetic mayors. Diamond City was founded by humans, and shall be forever upheld by humans. By us. The people.” That cheering was making me sick. What a bunch of brown-nosing jerks. And MacCready looked like his head was killing him. Every time the guy behind us clapped he grimaced. 

“When is this thing gonna be over?” he whined.

“Soon,” I said, and reached over to wrap an arm around him before I remembered he didn’t want to be touched. I quietly kept my hands to myself.

“Next question,” said Geneva.

“Yeah, do you really think you’re better than us?!” shouted that guy from the other day, the one I saw at the noodle shop saying he slept on the mattress on the ground by the Codman farm. 

“Sir, I am an educated, hard-working woman, and when elected mayor” I snorted. _When_ elected. Shut the hell up Anne you bitch “I will make the education and employment of all field residents my top priority so that you may experience the same well-earned pride and dignity that we upper-stands residents possess.” Wow. Backhanded much?

“Oh shut up,” groaned MacCready way, _way_ louder than necessary. The crowd fell silent. I think my cheeks started burning I was so embarrassed for him. But MacCready didn’t care. In fact, he kept talking. “Neither of you know jack about how to run Diamond City.”

“Excuse me, young man,” tutted Anne, “who do you think you-”

“Look at you!” MacCready gestured to Anne. “Who wears a pants-suit?! Somebody who’s never had to pick up a gun or a plow a day in her life, that’s who! Own as many farms as you want, lady, it’s not like you do any of the work. No one living on the field would vote for you even if they were paid to, and trust me, they’re all broke. But what would you know about that?”

Codman stammered, but before she could speak, MacCready turned to Nick and said, 

“And you…”

“MacCready…” warned Nick. He ignored him.

“Even if everyone here supported you, you’re gonna single-handedly tank Diamond City’s economy; you think some out-of-town trade caravan is gonna wanna trade with a settlement lead by an Institute synth after what happened last year? Seriously? If you wanna keep people safe then let them run their shops without having to cut half their suppliers loose!”

“R.J…please stop…” I begged, clutching at his duster.

“Weren’t you just cheering me on the other day?” glowered Nick.

“Yeah, well, Hancock is really convincing. Trust me.” I could tell he was thinking about butt-stuff.

“Would _you_ let ghouls in?” asked Solomon to MacCready for NO REASON, like, seriously, why was this happening? 

“Holy crap, who cares if people are ghouls or not?!” flailed MacCready. Oh no. He was standing on a chair now. “Let’em into the city for cryin’ out loud. Are you seriously gonna turn away the caps because someone looks like the got hit in the face with an ugly stick?”

“Baby, please…” I whined, trying to ignore the fact that the audience was _loving_ MacCready’s speech.

“What?! I’m not saying it’s perfect, but it’s something, alright? Look, Nick, I know you care about these people, but you wouldn’t be doing right by them by stepping up to the plate right now. I’m sorry. And Anne Codman? Please! You wouldn’t survive two seconds outside the wall! How are you gonna protect these people? That being said, maybe _don’t_ vote for someone from the upper stands or someone who’s gonna make trade impossible.” He hopped down from his chair. “Anyway, this has been fun and all, but I’m gonna go lie down. This is boring and nobody wants to be here.”

-

An hour later, I opened the door. Geneva sighed. “Where is he?”

“Uh…where is who?”

“Your butt buddy.”

Her answer caught me so off guard I choked on my Nuka Cola, still snickering as I answered, “He’s asleep. Why?”

A bouquet of hubflowers were shoved into my arms before I could ask questions. “Tell Mayor MacWhatshisface ‘congratulations.’ He starts tomorrow. Keep the house. I’m moving to Far Harbor.” 

The door shut in my face. I glanced down at the bouquet, completely dumbfounded. There was a piece of paper tucked into the wrappings. I carefully set down my Nuka on the table and slipped the paper out. It read:

**Codman – 16**

**Valentine – 16**

**Makreedy / McReady / Macarthy / That guy with the rockin goatee / Uppity young man – 17.5**

Not even bothering to question that half a point, I shook my head. “Holy shit.”

A yawn came from behind, followed by a pair of furry arms slipping around my middle. MacCready hugged my back and pressed his head between my shoulder blades. “Morning.”

“Morning…”

“Hey, I’m sorry for being a jacka-uhh, a jerk when you touched me earlier. I didn’t feel so good. I know that’s not a great excuse.” He poked his head out from behind my tall frame. “Hey, what’s that for?”

I offered an amused smile and glanced down at him. “It’s all for you…Mr. Mayor.”

His eyes shot open. He barreled out in front of me, shirtless, and snatched the paper from the bouquet, reading it over and wailing, “Oh man! Not again!”


	52. Daddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready finally find a place to live. Nate wants to murder MacCready but he's too cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A settlement fit for a king, one may say. Nyur hur hur.

I watched the pack brahmin sway in the distance, surrounded by five Minutemen settlers, though I must confess, it was a little hard to see them with my eye consistently twitching. Well, that was the last of it. Their clothes, tools, everything was all packed up and they were all headed for Covenant with dirty looks on their faces. And guess where they were moving from? I glanced up at the lighthouse. My eye twitched again. 

“Hey boss?” A hand brushed my shoulder. Twitch went my eye. “Uh...Nate?” Twitch twitch. “Hey are you-”

“A house. A career. We could have had it all. And you threw it all away, and for what?”

“Oh come _on,_ you didn’t actually expect me to stick around Diamond City and be mayor did you?”

“No, not really, but I **SURE AS SHIT DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO DRAG ME BACK TO KINGSPORT AFTER ALL THAT!!!**”

“Geez, lower your voice. You’re gonna give yourself a goddamn aneurism.”

I was fuming. I inhaled. “Why MacCready.”

“Why what?”

“Why here?”

“Because if Diamond City is so desperate that they tried to make me mayor then no offense but I don’t want Shaun growing up there. And Covenant? Puh-leeze. At least we have some history at Kingsport. Guess we could have gone back to Taffington but-”

“Nah, I fucked it up with all those little irradiated lanterns.”

“Aren’t there settlers living there right now?”

I shrugged. “They knew the risks.”

“Ugh. You’re terrible.” He mussed up my hair.

“No, you know what’s terrible, R.J.? Hauling my fat ass back to Kingsport Lighthouse and making me unpack everything you made me pack in the first place. God I hate you so much right now.”

“Shut up. You do not.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Besides, if I stayed in Diamond City, they wouldn’t have elected such an awesome mayor.”

Finally, I cracked a smile. “Well…I wouldn't exactly call him _awesome._” I stuck an arm around his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The sun was setting behind the lighthouse. Huh. Well, I sure did miss the ocean sky, anyway. Those orange and pink sunsets and little, blue clouds were beautiful. It was like looking at a painting.

MacCready chuckled. “Are you kidding? What’s not to love about a noodle-slingin’ mayor!”

“Do you know how salty Nick was when they voted for Takahashi instead?”

“Eh, to be honest, he seemed kind of relieved. Besides, Taka beats the pants off of that Codman lady.”

“Speaking of beating the pants off of people…” I gave MacCready a swift slap to the ass to which he yelped and laughed. I spun him around, flung him up against the side of the house, and took a moment to just look at him.

I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky. First, to have him as my traveling companion, then as my friend, and finally, something more, even after I thought I had lost him. I never thought I’d get him back after he hauled off to DC. I remembered the moment I saw him return, scrambling away from that deathclaw. I couldn’t have been more relieved to see him alive. 

Now, he stared up at me with gray-blue eyes and handsome wrinkles around them. I set my palm against his face, feeling his cheekbones, his jaw, his stubble, everything. His masculine face felt so small in my large palms. I bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips. He sighed and kissed back.

We stayed like that for a time, tongues dancing, hips moving together with my weight pressing him against the building. I felt a little bad that I had requested the settlers haul off to Covenant, but you know, the money I used to bribe them was totally worth it. Now Kingsport was all ours. Heh…again.

Our tongues swirled, legs intertwined, hips colliding groin to groin. I swayed. He swayed back. We kissed deeper, more passionately. 

_Fuck._

I jerked him close to me and we stumbled together, kissing and starting to groan and breathe and sigh as we tangoed around the side of the building. We stopped here and there. I peeled off his duster and tossed it aside. He undid my ponytail and sent a wave of brown hair tumbling around my shoulders. 

Another kiss. A moan. A sigh.

Our feet shuffled, stirring up the dust beneath us as the colors of the sky melted into the evening blue. I pulled up his shirt and he threw his hands over his head. Soon it was discarded somewhere else and I was running my hands along his arm muscles. He was so tense. I squeezed his shoulders and shoved my tongue down his throat, demanding him right then and there.

Another kiss. A groan. A whimper. 

Who was making what noise? Neither of us knew. All we knew was that we needed to feel each other and taste each other and stumble into the lighthouse together like lovesick fools. We began to ascend the steps. Two rough hands came to unfasten my pants and I moaned. My fly was flung open and MacCready palmed me, making me moan even louder, the sounds of my own desperation echoing off the lighthouse. 

I wanted it all with MacCready. Kids; a house; my career as a general and his as a mercenary. It was perfect, so perfect: rebuilding this fucked up world while we created our own family with its own struggles, a mark on the world that humanity would continue to survive and love and suffer and endure. I wanted to experience that bliss and heartbreak with R.J.

“Oh, god!” he mewled; now my hands were in his pants, _all_ the way in, and I was stroking him over and over. He was already so hard. My own shirt had since been tossed aside, on some step somewhere, probably next to my right shoe and his left. 

We continued up the stairs, kissing and grinding and touching and lusting after each other, clothes scattered like a trail of breadcrumbs born of need and impatience. 

Finally we reached the top, our bare feet echoing off the corrugated steel landing. My pants were tossed aside, then his, and then my underwear which I think tumbled over the edge of the lighthouse and down below onto the rocks. His underwear were gone a moment later.

We stood there, grasping and clawing at each other, naked on top of the lighthouse as the orange fire of the sky sizzled away into a steam of passionate, blue twilight. I snatched his bun – hair long on the top and buzzed at the sides, courtesy of the barber in Diamond City – and jerked him inside. “Ahhh!” he shouted as I did, and did so the exact same way when I slammed his back against the glass and got onto my knees. “Ohhh! Oh my god! Ahhh!” He sank his cock between my lips and wasted no time in fucking my mouth. My throat. 

I grasped his length and began stroking, sinking deeper and deeper every time I did. Oh my god I was so horny I thought I was going to fucking _die_ if I didn’t get off. I don’t know what it was. Sure, blowing him was good, but there was something really, really hot about MacCready right then.

Maybe it was because he was young, but had this aged, world-weary soul. Maybe it’s because he knew what it was like to be a father and I sympathized, and the idea of us raising a family together was endearing and wonderful. Maybe it’s just because he was naked and his cock looked good. I don’t know. But I do know that it’s because he was perfectly imperfect; this stupid, annoying little shit that I loved with every piece of myself and would have died for. 

My tongue swirled around his head and he bucked. I physically gagged on his dick but refused to let up. Judging by the way his fingers tangled in my hair and he took a trembling breath, I’d say he enjoyed it. I cupped his balls and took his length and repeated the process until he was practically shouting. And why not? We were all alone. We could afford to be loud and indulge. The sounds of the crashing waves and the creaking steel were mere seasonings to the noises he made.

I took MacCready out of my mouth, got up onto my feet and kissed him again. “MHN!” he cried into the kiss, and I gave a needy grunt in response. I swayed my hips against him relentlessly just to get a little bit of friction. Our dicks moved against each other’s and it felt so good I almost came onto the floor. I pulled my head back and shuddered. Fuck, oh fuck, I was right there. I was right there and I’d barely touched him. I gritted my teeth and shivered. 

There…there we go…

After successfully (barely) holding back, I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, spitting into my hand and slicking up my erection. 

“Fuck me!” he cried. 

And _oh my GOD _ that turned me on. MacCready seldom cursed anymore, especially since Shaun came around, because he gave him a reason to honor his promise to Duncan. That was beautiful. But sometimes in the throes of passion, he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Oh my god fuck me right now Nate! I need- ohhh! Yeah! YEAH!”

I sank into him with a deep, guttural grunt of my own. Why be quiet? The world was ours!

I took his hips and began to pump deeper and deeper and deeper, and each time I did, MacCready cried into the early night sky and begged for me, _insisting_ I take him. His ass squeezed around me and it was so good that I started to pant and sweat. MacCready may have needed me, but I needed him twice as bad. He was so fucking hot that I couldn’t even contain myself around him. He was…well he was perfect.

That tight ass sheathing my cock, his sandy hair messy from my clutches, hot voice crackling like a fire as I took him, and god, the way he jerked back against me like he couldn’t stand not to.

“I love you,” I panted, thrusting and thrusting.

“Ah! Oh god! I love you so much Nate!”

I wrapped my arms around his middle and applied pressure to his belly, jerking him back against me as he clutched at my arms and dug his nails in. “Ngh! Fuck! Let’s raise a family!”

“Yeah! _Yeah!_” he agreed, or maybe he was just about to cum. 

“Yeah, you like that daddy?!”

“YEAH! I LIKE wait no,” he laughed, “ew, no!”

“Ngh - - ” It felt so good. So, so good. “Okay, no daddy kink,” I agreed, gritting my teeth and fucking him with everything I had in me. I tightened the grip of my arms around his middle and began to pump faster, because I was seriously right there on the edge.

In between his lilting, little laughs, he moaned. “Oh…oh god you’re hitting it…!!!”

I kept one arm firm around his middle and brought the other one up to snatch a fistful of hair. I flung his neck back. He moaned and I said, “Yeah? That your prostate right…there?” I jerked my hips and he cried out.

“Ahhh yeah! Yeah! There!”

“Here?” Another jerk. 

“THERE! OH!”

I rolled my hips, feeling his clenching ass slide up and down my cock without reprieve. I clutched his hair and his waist and bore into him, balls churning with every quick motion. Suddenly, I shuddered and grunted, doubling over and cumming inside of him. After a quick and vicious couple of jerks, I watched a torrent of white erupt onto the glass and stream down as MacCready came too. 

“I can’t! I can’t!” he whimpered, cum surging out of his cock hands-free as he gripped my arms. I gasped for air, emptying myself into him. I kept fucking him with my half-flaccid dick and he was still cumming, moaning under my hold. I watched the cum drip down the glass and the little puddle on the floor under his still-leaking cock. “Ohhh…_ohhh yeah…_ he mewled, swaying in my grasp and trying to catch his breath. I gave his cock another couple of shakes, watching the last of him drip onto the ground.

After, I held him close and we kissed again, soft, gentle kisses like velvet. The sky was dark blue now, its loving embrace draped across the decaying corpse of the world, the one in which R.J. and I would raise Shaun together.


	53. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready gets a crush...and it's not on Nate or Hancock. Shaun <s>totally does not </s> go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They grow up so fast ToT

The next day was…interesting. Shaun was meant to stay the week, and MacCready and I had approximately 24 hours to get off because god knows we’d have no alone time in the days to follow. We started by having more sex on top of the lighthouse. We nodded off naked for a while, woke up when it was cold, and started blowing each other again. MacCready came in my mouth.

After that, we went back to the house, had dinner, and then kicked the plates and cups off the table to fuck there. MacCready came on the table.

Next, there was alcohol involved, then a cock ring, then another orgasm from MacCready. By that time it was two in the morning and we were down half a bottle of whiskey. Our dumb asses decided to go for a walk. We made out and dry humped our way to the Nakano’s where I collected my boat and drunk-sailed it back to Kingsport. MacCready came over the side of the boat and we arrived at four in the morning drunk off our asses. 

The next thing I remembered, I was spilling my guts to him about all the kinky things I had done with Hancock. About how he degraded me and made me spit up on him at Covenant. 

“And he gets off on that? _Seriously?!_”

“I KNOW! RIGHT?!” I wailed, knocking whatthefuckeveritwas over onto the floor. Whatever it was, it broke. I drank down what was left in my tumbler and said, “And I fucking _loved_ it, R.J.”

I think I blacked out for a while because when I came to, we were upstairs – clothes still scattered all over the settlement, mind you – and MacCready was gagging on my fingers, trying out this hip new kink. He pulled his head aside, spit, and groaned, “Ugh, buffout. This is awful. Fu-uhhh, screw Hancock and his weird fetish.”

“Psht. Yoush hab sex wiff a winduh,” I slurred.

MacCready snorted and laughed. “What?”

“A winduh. At Fallims.”

“The window at Fallons? So what if I had sex with a window! That’s not gross.”

“Yesh it ish! D’you know how mimmy soober moobants touched that…” I trailed off. MacCready was cracking up, slapping his knees, face red with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Wup? Why you laughin?”

Between gasps for air, he wailed, “SOOBER MOOBANTS!”

I blacked out again and when I snapped back to reality, I was inside of the cock ring and MacCready was stroking me. I was moving my hips and groaning. I blacked out again. Now he was teasing me with the fusion-powered wand. I think I was about to cum too because it felt so good that I was arching my back. I blacked out again, and this time, I was hot as hell. Not in a good way either. It must have been a million degrees. But somehow I was also…cold?

“Oh boy, this again,” rasped a familiar voice.

I glanced up. It must have been at least noon because the sun was shining bright in the sky, a cold breeze on my face. I winced. The hell was I? Outside? Yeah, that was a mutfruit bush I was planted in. I groaned and sat up, staring at Hancock from below. The mayor and Shaun blinked at me.

“Are you okay Dad?!” asked Shaun, obviously distressed at my appearance.

_I’m great, kiddo,_ I tried to say and instead replied, “I…urgh…shit.”

“Dad?”

“Blurp. Hrm?”

“Why are you dressed like the Shroud? And why are you sticky?”

I looked down at my ascot. Hoo boy.

“Hey, kiddo. Tell you what. Uncle Hancock’s gonna take you out on the boat. I’m sure the Silver Shroud won’t mind. **_RIGHT SHROUD?!_**”

Oh Christ Hancock was scary when he was angry. I quickly nodded. “Yup. That’s great. Take the keys. Take everything. Take anything you want if it means you’ll forget this happened.”

Hancock narrowed his eyes, placed a hand on Shaun’s back, and led him inside.

“Well, feel better dad! I’ll be back later,” said Shaun. 

I could have died. I settled for tilting my aching head back against the house and groaning. Where the hell was MacCready, anyway? He wasn’t half as drunk as me when he-

“Not you too,” said Hancock, hanging in the doorway. 

“Whoa, what happened to _you_ Mr. MacCready?” gasped Shaun. “And where are your pants?”

-

MacCready and I picked up our clothes while Hancock took Shaun out on the water. It was an ordeal to find everything, especially as hungover as we were. Afterward, we bathed and dressed, and hung out on the couch with a bucket lamenting about how we were terrible parents.

Fortunately, that improved. After one, miserable day, we had one of the best weeks of our lives. We went boating, fishing, hiking, and even got into a little scrap with some radroaches in a nearby factory. Hancock went to scout it out first, so we already knew there were roaches inside. I was opposed to Hancock’s idea of letting Shaun fire a gun at first, but I was glad I gave in. Shaun was very responsible. 

The last day, we all headed over to Diamond City and had dinner with Nick and Piper at Mayor Takahashi’s noodle stand. Nat and Shaun played while the grownups talked. Nick didn’t seemed too broken up over not being mayor anymore, and actually seemed to think Diamond City might do better without one in charge if only because they had all sucked dong in the past (MacCready’s words, not Nick’s.) Only time would tell. 

After we dropped Shaun off at Sanctuary, things got sort of lonely. MacCready had taken a job at the Dugout (some mercenary work posted on the wall) and headed off with Cait of all people to do that. That left me and Hancock alone. We spent a while in Goodneighbor fucking each other’s brains out while MacCready and Cait did their work and collected their caps. 

I was caught a little off guard when MacCready told me he had feelings for Cait. I got that feeling in my stomach – something between jealousy and inadequacy – that I got when MacCready hooked up with that trader in Goodneighbor. This time, I didn’t berate him. I swallowed down my wine and forced myself to keep eating dinner instead, watching his eyes from across the candlelight. We were perched on some roof in Boston.

“Alright,” I said at last.

“Except it’s not alright,” he answered. “You’re obviously jealous.”

I chewed and swallowed my food, dabbing away anything left on my lips with my sleeve. “Yeah.”

“Well…I’m sorry. Look, I didn’t do anything with her if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I shook my head. “Even if you did, I’d…” I looked out at the skyline, watching the smoke from a handful of scavver camps waft into the sky. “…I’d deal with it.”

“Come on, boss, I don’t want you to have to ‘deal with it.’ I want you to be happy.”

I sighed and turned back to MacCready. “What do _you_ want, R.J.? If I wasn’t jealous, what would you do with Cait? Be honest.”

I mean, he always did flirt with Cait. Hell, he flirted with everyone. But _especially_ the fiery redhead. Maybe I should have seen this coming.

“Honestly? I mean…” He gestured with his hand. Just some vague, stupid gesture that I completely understood. He’d fuck her if he had the chance.

I didn’t answer. Just nodded and went to bed. We cleaned up camp, set off, and continued to take on work. The matter was dropped for a few days. We were standing over a pile of raider carcasses, all with clean holes in their foreheads – courtesy of you know who – when I said, “MacCready? I’m fine with it.”

“Huh?” He stood up after corpse-squatting and counted out the caps in his hands. “Really? Because this is like fifty caps, boss. You sure you don’t wanna split-”

“With Cait. I’m fine with you and Cait.”

“Uhhh were we having a conversation?” he asked, laughing nervously.

“I’m serious, R.J. Just…hook up with Cait if that’s what you want.”

“Really? Why?”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“Yeah, but you’re not big-tiddy red-head whiskey-drinkin’ Irish happy.”

MacCready laughed for real this time. “Come on, Nate. Just let it go already. I just wanted you to know how I felt about her so you know I’m being honest with you. Trust is important, you know. Besides, after I lied to Lucy…well…”

Sure. I got it. He didn’t want to keep things from me. I could respect that. But there was something very sincere about his crush toward Cait. Anyway, I dropped it like he asked me to and we continued exploring. 

The next couple weeks were spent between me and MacCready, sometimes checking in on Deacon or Curie. The week after that, Hancock joined us. We helped out a couple settlements, had a bunch of kinky ass sex, and made caps. Life was good. Then…we stopped by the Combat Zone.

“You alright?” asked Hancock.

I leaned against the stonework and took a drag of my cigarette. “Christ. I can actually _hear_ them.”

“Somethin’ tells me he would have been fine not screwing Cait you know.”

“I had to know.”

“Know what, Sunshine?” He brushed a strand of dark hair away from my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. 

I shrugged and flicked my ashes. “I guess I had to know if I was really okay with him fucking other people. It’s funny: if you ended up in bed with someone, I wouldn’t think twice. But R.J.?” I scoffed. “The hell is wrong with me?”

“Eh. Different dynamic.”

“How do you figure?”

“I showed you everything there was to know about bein’ intimate,” he explained, grazing my crotch with his hand. Part of me loved it. Part of me didn’t want to be touched listening to Cait. “I’ve always taken the lead. You knew I was that way when we got together. Now you? You’re MacCready’s Hancock. And he’s your Nate.” He squeezed my cock through my pants.

“Mm…” Alright, that felt pretty great. “Fine, but that doesn’t give me a right to be jealous.”

“Feel any way you want. Just act like a man.” Another squeeze. I shifted my hips. It felt good but… No. I couldn’t. I batted his hand away and shook my head.

“Sorry.”

“’S fine.”

“What do you mean act like a man?”

“I mean do the commendable thing.”

“Is the commendable thing letting MacCready fuck Cait?”

“You ain’t _lettin’_ MacCready do anything. Get rid of that attitude. You ain’t in charge of him. Got it?”

I nodded. “Yeah. No, yeah. I do.” That would be like if MacCready ‘let’ me fuck Hancock. The mayor was right. Poor jargon.

“If you have a problem with him screwing around, you gotta tell him. Your responsibility is to communicate your needs. You do that and you’ll figure it out. You love each other.”

I glanced over at him, watching his dark eyes sparkle in the floodlight. “I love you too, you know.”

“Heh. Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky.” 

Hancock leaned in to kiss me. I closed my eyes and reciprocated, waiting for his mouth to meet mine. His kisses were the stuff of dreams; this incredible, incomprehensible sensation that always left me fulfilled and wanting at the same time. The door creaked open and my eyes shot open right before he landed the kiss. Damn it.

MacCready and Cait stepped out into the light. MacCready looked at me only briefly before turning his head away like he was ashamed. My insides twisted accordingly. Cait, though? She was all smiles. “Whew! Thanks. Needed that. Anyway, I should get goin’,” she said as casually as though she’d just looted a raider corpse or tossed back a shot.

“Wait,” I said, suddenly realizing that we were at the Combat Zone. Which she hated. With the burning passion. “Why are we back here?”

“Figured this’d be the closest I ever came to literally fucking this place in the arse like it deserves,” shrugged Cait. Hancock snickered. 

“Fair enough,” I said, and we went our separate ways, me, Hancock and MacCready to the north, and Cait elsewhere. That night, we slept by a dam after salvaging some stupid thing or another from an outbuilding. Hancock was down by the water taking a piss, and MacCready was sitting with his legs over the edge. I approached him from behind, cautiously pulling myself onto the ledge to sit next to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You hate heights.”

“Eh. They’re not so bad once you get used to them.” I paused and looked below into the dark, swirling water, wondering how many mirelurks swam just below. “Best thing to do when you’re afraid is to give it a try anyway. If you’re still scared, you’re still scared. And if you’re not, then, well…you move on.”

“Oh for crying out loud, this is a metaphor, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s a metaphor, this is me you’re dealing with, kid.” I pulled my smokes out of my leather jacket and MacCready followed up my gesture by revealing his lighter.

We sat there in silence for a time, watching Hancock finish his pee and engage in battle with a lonely, bored mirelurk. Eh, he was fine. The sounds of it scuttling around chasing the ghoul was peaceful in its own way, like white noise. Hilarious, white noise.

“So, you still afraid of heights?” asked MacCready.

I glanced down at the drop again. “Metaphorically or literally?”

“Metaphorically…you know…about me and Cait.”

I chuckled. “Actually? No. I’m really not. I’ve been thinking about it all day and, well…I know Cait. I trust her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders – a hot head – but a good head nonetheless. Honestly? I’m okay with this.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really, really okay with this. And I want you to know that I’m sorry for the way I acted in the past.”

“Well that was different, right? That was some random trader.”

“Okay, yeah…” I confessed. “I guess I wanna know who you’re messing around with. But Cait?”

_ “YOU WANNA GO, CRABBY?!!!”_

“I’m okay with you and Cait having sex from here on-”

_ “I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU YOU HARD-SHELLED PIECE OF”_

“Christ that’s distracting.”

“Hancock!” shouted MacCready. “Just kill it already!”

_ “WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M TRYING TO DO?! YOU JUST GONNA SIT THERE OR COME HELP ME ASSHOLE?!” _

“Sit here,” he answered quietly, taking a drag and passing off the cigarette. 

I waved it away. “Can’t. Heights are scaring the shit out of me right now.” I rolled backward off the rise and onto the safety of the concrete, MacCready laughing at my antics. 

-

The three of us still had sex and traveled together. MacCready sometimes ran off with Cait, and sometimes with Hancock too. The merc and I continued our relationship and settled into Kingsport rather nicely. Shaun came to visit more often until finally he moved in. Life had its ups and downs. Sometimes MacCready and I fought. Sometimes Shaun acted out. Sometimes we were broke; but MacCready and I loved each other. Shaun took well to Kingsport, learning to salvage scrap from the nearby buildings and build amazing things. And between me leading the Minutemen and MacCready doing odd jobs, we usually made good money. All in all, life was good.

One day, I woke up to footsteps padding up the stairs. “Dad? Dad?”

“AAAWWWRRRHHHHH!” yawned MacCready, scratching his belly and stirring under the covers. “What? It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So I’m tired. Caps don’t make themselves you know. You think I spent the last week in Nahant on vacation?” 

I socked MacCready in the arm. “What your dad means to say is that he loves you very much and he’s an uppity little shit.” MacCready snorted and rolled over, hogging the covers. I sat up. “What’s up kiddo?”

“Okay, first of all, you guys are disgusting. Second, Nat’s here, and I’m gonna go.”

Oh, _now_ MacCready was awake. He sat up and said, “Where’s your gun?”

“Right here on my thigh dad.”

“And your knife?”

“Dad.”

“Hey, I just wanna make sure you two are okay. I know you’re eighteen, but if anything happened to you – to either of you – I’d-”

“Shaun,” I interrupted MacCready, “if anything happens to Natalie” (“IT’S NAT JACKASS!” came a voice from outside) “you’re grounded.”

“Dad, if anything happened to Nat, Piper’d kill you both before you had the chance.”

“So you get where I’m coming from,” I agreed.

“Nathan. Robert,” said Shaun, instigated eye rolls all around, “Nat’s a Railroad heavy and I’m an engineer.”

“Uh, yeah,” scoffed MacCready, “you fix vertibirds, you’re not a marksman.”

“DADDDD!” groaned Shaun. “WE’RE SMART! AND DANGEROUS! WE! WILL! BE! FINE!”

“Ugh. He’s right,” I relented, and flopped onto my back. “We do this every time he leaves the house. Let him go on his date.”

“It’s not a date,” insisted Shaun a little _too_ vehemently. 

MacCready and I looked to each other, paused, and started cracking up. Shaun looked mortified. Once we settled down, MacCready said, “Well son, have fun on your, uh, ‘not date.’”

A minute later, I looked out the window. Shaun and his afro ran up to the twenty year old with the short, spiky, dyed-pink hair. She stared at me from below with dark, hazel eyes, adjusted the strap on her back that held her Fat Man, and smiled. She flipped me not one, but two birds. I returned the gesture. 

“Hey old man!”

“What?!” I answered.

“Drink your coffee!”

“I’m saving it! It was a gift!”

“Yeah, a gift that’s like, six, seven years old! Drink it asshole!”

“You drink it!”

“Okay.”

“No don’t touch my coffee!”

“Then drink it!”

MacCready popped his head out of the window and said, “Nat, just go, or my boyfriend’s never gonna shut up. Please don’t do this to me.”

I guess she sympathized because she gave my son a playful punch and the two headed off to what, as a parent, I _knew_ was complete safety and also 100% certain danger, probably death.


	54. Just Some Ghoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been seven years, and the Commonwealth is changing. And _not_ for the better. Nate also faces some personal struggles of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven years, one literal and one figurative tire-fire later...

Seven years. Sometimes I couldn’t believe seven years had gone by. Seven years I had spent with MacCready and Shaun as we raised him, watched him grow up. And the Commonwealth was changing.

A lot of people escaped the Institute after it was destroyed, and now, they banded together to seek revenge on the people who brought them to ruin. So you know, me. Well, me and the Railroad. Some scientists joined society, sure, but there were plenty of ragtag groups of Institute lackeys who snapped, and now, they were no better than raiders, attacking innocents and scavenging off the land with their Gen-1s at their sides.

Diamond City was…not in good shape. I guess that’s what happens when your mayor is a noodle robot. On the plus side, ghouls began to trade there; there was nobody to stop them. But things were bad. With no mayor present, the city guard began abusing its power. Public beatdowns were a common occurrence now. People were still terrified of synths thanks to the groups of “Institute Raiders,” as some people called them, and the economy was tanking. In fact, the only thing keeping it afloat was the fact that ghouls traded there. Goodneighbor refused, but the Slog was on board. Eh, boring economics. Point is that the mayor was still Takahashi, and things weren’t looking good.

Codman tried to step in again, but she died. Heart attack. Very sudden. Then someone else stepped up and they died too. Killed out in the ruins of Boston. Then it happened again, and again, and again. Oh, Nick and Piper were having a field day with that one. They spent 90% of their lives trying to get to the bottom of it. Piper had several theories which of course she published. But all we knew for sure was that it was too weird to be a coincidence. Somebody wanted Diamond City to crumble.

Because the ghouls had been kicked out of Diamond City in the past and were trading there again, one of Piper’s theories (one that Nick backed, mind you) was that this was retaliation; that a group of ghouls wanted to take back Diamond City. Every ghoul denied this, of course, and I had to admit that theory didn’t sit particularly well with me either. But you know who it _really_ pissed off? 

Hancock. 

_That’s_ why Goodneighbor – why Hancock – refused to even consider trading with Diamond City. He had respected Nick and Piper up until that point. Didn’t always agree with them, but respected them. That was no longer the case. Now, Goodneighbor and Diamond City could not have been more divided. Especially since Diamond City was starting to rip apart at the seams while Goodneighbor was steadily improving. Fortunately, Mayor Hancock and Diamond City didn’t have beef with my Minutemen trading at either city; we kept our noses clean.

Piper’s sister, Nat, was a Railroad heavy. This _thrilled_ Piper who was getting her first gray hairs. And if you asked Shaun, he definitely, _definitely_ wasn’t in love with Nat. He would say “Dad, I don’t have time, the Minutemen need me, there’s a vertibird that needs repairs, there’s a suit of power armor that needs fixing.” True…except that he was totally in love with Nat.

As far as my love life went, it was alright. Not the worst, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t lacking severely. My sex drive declined after raising Shaun, and keeping up with MacCready became exhausting, especially as he explored his new kinks with Cait, who he now called his “girlfriend.” Not my favorite thing in the world, but it was what it was. They were still together. In fact, Cait lived with us for a while. It very nearly killed mine and Robert’s relationship. Fortunately that only lasted about six months before we worked it out; Cait and I did not live well together, and ultimately, MacCready told her he wasn’t in love with her the way he was with me. She was peeved for a long time, but seven years later and they were still off screwing in random corners of the Commonwealth. I guess eventually it became a non-issue for me; MacCready and I were serious, and he and Cait were dating and not _as_ serious. It’s something the three of us worked out as best we could.

I still had threesomes with MacCready and Hancock, and usually when MacCready was off with Cait I would occupy myself in Goodneighbor, helping out with the ghoul’s _mayoral duties._ Which was fine in a technical sense; MacCready, Hancock and I all had casual sex with one another at varying times (me and the mayor, the mayor and MacCready, me and MacCready), but…

I was starting to seek out John in lieu of my partner. And while I can’t prove this, I think MacCready was doing the same thing with Cait. It was always the same. We’d wake up at Kingsport. He’d go down on me. I couldn’t get it up. I’d give him a hand job which I’d start and he’d finish. We’d have to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake up our son but that wasn’t hard to do because neither of us really moaned anymore. Nat would then show up and haul Shaun off and MacCready and I would have the house to ourselves. We could do anything we wanted, go out on the boat, have a romantic dinner… 

Instead, MacCready would say, “Hey, Nate, I told Cait I’d meet her at the Shamrock Taphouse.”

“Why the Taphouse?”

“Supposed to be some decent loot there.”

There wasn’t loot. I knew, because we’d cleared it years ago. They were going there to fuck. 

“Oh, alright,” I’d answer, and take a bite of my toast. “Tell her hi.”

“Yeah.” He would pause and scratch the back of his head, messing up his bun. It was almost as bushy as his beard. “You gonna hang out here?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright. Need anything from town?”

“Nah. Have fun.” I would offer an obsequious smile and we would kiss and say _I love you, love you too,_ and he’d be gone. I wouldn’t stay home. I would go to Goodneighbor. And those erections I couldn’t maintain with Robert? Well, I’d get one as soon as I set foot out the door, I’d get one as soon as the prospect of being tortured by Hancock entered my mind.

Which brings me to present.

Shaun and Nat were off worrying their parents, and MacCready was off with his girl. So same old, same old. Not wanting to spend the following week alone at Kingsport, I headed down to Goodneighbor. Not for any reason in particular of course, wink wink. Nudge nudge. 

Besides, I was _dying_. Obviously MacCready and I were having a rough patch. While we’d offer up the occasional blowie or handjob, not much else went on. Therefore, MacCready was unaware that I had spent the last two weeks suffering the wrath of my dom, the wrath of Hancock’s chastity cage…and the key was in Goodneighbor.

I don’t know what changed, honestly. Raising Shaun was the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, Shaun and MacCready. I loved them with everything I had. But the decisions I made in the past? With the Brotherhood? With the Minutemen? With Shaun? With MacCready when I had abandoned him a long, long time ago? Those decisions were catching up with me. I couldn’t even fuck my own lover anymore. The comfort and reprieve from sex with MacCready were gone. Eventually, I started getting into some questionable shit with Hancock.

To put it plainly, he was hardcore domming, and I was his bitch.

It’s all I cared about anymore. I wanted to be abused because when I was abused I could feel something. Anything. Like I said I was going down to Goodneighbor to see Hancock. I needed to feel something while MacCready was with his girlfriend instead of me.

Well I didn’t get very far. There was a massive group of Gen-1s travelling up the highway out of Kingsport and I had to take a detour. No way I could’ve taken them all on myself. Shit. Were their numbers increasing?

Despite my personal problems, the Minutemen were doing well. Since I was forced to take that detour I figured I’d check in on Finch Farm, see how the family was holding up. They were fine. Better than fine. A long time ago, Abraham Finch and his son Jake were at odds. When I approached the farm they were talking about old cars. At least some things were right in the world.

At any rate, after grabbing some water and saying my goodbyes, I caught a glimpse of Saugus Ironworks. I had just been wondering if there were more “Institute Raiders” around. The answer was…yes. Sometimes, The Forged (you know, those pyromaniac raiders who think they’re hot shit, pun intended) settle back into the joint. Well they were back, except now, there were Gen-1s at their side. That did not bode well. There was nothing I could do about it at present, but I would have to bring this to the attention of the Minutemen. The Ironworks was too close to Finch Farm and the Slog to let The Forged and a bunch of Institute synths hang around. 

Things kept getting in my way every time I attempted to travel south. Raiders. Institute Raiders. Supermutants. It would not stop. Just one of those days, I suppose. I spent the night in an abandoned shack in Medford absolutely miserable in my cage and resumed travelling the next day. It was the same thing though. An army of bloatflies, a renegade Mr. Gutsy, jesus fucking christ. Before I knew it, I was closer to Diamond City than I was Goodneighbor, so I decided to stop in for a spell.

There was a tire fire going on near the church. Polly was slumped over her stall and there were flies around her meat. A couple of guards were shoving a skinny ghoul up against a shack. John, the barber, was outside of his shop weeping for whatever reason. And half the neon lights on Mayor Takahashi’s Power Noodles were out. Coupled with the radstorm that was starting to crackle in the sky, the atmosphere of the city felt surreal. 

But perhaps the most surreal part of it all was that when I looked at the noodle stand, I spotted two familiar faces: a mercenary and a freckled redhead. They were eating and laughing.

I inhaled sharply. Okay. This was happening.

The first thing I did was snatch the back of one of the guard’s uniforms and jerk him backward. The other guard went to draw his gun. 

“Wanna rethink that move?” I asked calmly. My voice may have been calm, but my heart was racing; because of seeing MacCready there, because of spending the last 24 running for my life, because of the state of the Commonwealth, and now because of this.

The guard considered me. Both of them did. Ultimately the guard with his weapon drawn kept it steady until his little friend said, “Hey, ain’t you the general?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw come on, don’t get the Minutemen involved in this man, we was just-“

“No no,” said the ghoul, who strangely enough was grinning from ear to ear, “_please_ get the Minutemen involved. I wanna see these two dicks get their faces blown off by a shitty electric musket.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Shitty? My gun isn’t shitty. And it’s not even electric.”

“Yeah, electric, laser, whatever. A musket? Are you guys for real? You should see what I’m packin’.”

I chuckled, ignoring the guards around me who exchanged confused glances. “Oh yeah? If you’re packing something so great then why are you letting a couple of losers rough you up in the middle of Diamond City?”

One of the guards wrapped his arm around the other’s shoulders and said, “Come on man, don’t listen to him, we ain’t losers…” and with that they excused themselves. Finally.

The ghoul cracked is knuckles, then his neck. He looked…young. Young, and human in many ways. He still had a swathe of blond hair done up similarly to the way MacCready used to wear it. Like a pompadour. And he had a leather jacket on over a white undershirt and jeans. I half-expected to see an Atom Cats logo on the back what with his style and all. But there wasn’t. But perhaps the most remarkable thing about him was his eyes. One eye was ghoulish and black like Hancock’s. The other looked untouched by radiation, bright and blue like the sky. 

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a masochist.”

I laughed. For the first time in days, I laughed. “Well…alright then. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Coulda handled it myself,” he insisted, reaching into his pocket to light up a smoke.

“Sure, sure. Well next time you can,” I said and left him to his business. He shot me a half smile, his pocked cheeks littered with laugh lines as he exhaled smoke through his ghoulish nostrils and waved. 

Well that was weird, but alright. I guessed it was time to confront MacCready. I wasn’t mad that he and Cait were in Diamond City or anything, it’s just…well, he never really invited me there anymore. Sometimes we all used to go together, MacCready, me and Cait. I mean she was a woman so nothing like _that_ ever happened, but she was still my friend, and I felt pretty left out when it was just the two of them shooting the shit for a week without me. 

So I took another detour. I gave three, brisk knocks on Piper’s door. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up the moment I heard her shrieks. I could hear her even past the radstorm, high-pitched wails that broke the barrier of the door. “Shit,” I hissed, and flung the door open only to find…

“SHIT, BLUE?!”

Valentine pulled his face away from her…um…thighs…and glanced over his shoulder. His synthetic lips were slick. Piper’s cheeks were flushed, trench coat spread open and pants around her ankles. Nick’s coat was gone altogether, and the buttons of his shirt were undone revealing the inner-mechanisms of his chest similar to that of the left side of his face. His fly was undone, and…

“Nope.” I shut the door.

“Ayyy, you’re back,” said the ghoul, taking a final drag of his smoke before chucking it onto the ground and stomping it out with his boot. He folded his arms over his chest, leaning casually against the wall of the All Faiths Chapel. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna talk to anyone else,” I confessed. “Got a cigarette?” I had since quit, but you know, now seemed like a good time to pick up an old habit. 

“That stuff’ll kill ya, you know.”

Images of the half-naked Nick and Piper flashed through my mind. “Let’s hope so.”

“Hey, why don’t instead of smokin’ a cigarette, you head inside the church and pick up something else?”

I raised an eyebrow.

He reached out, placing a rough hand on my shoulder. I didn’t expect to be touched and honestly it…wasn’t bad. The man looked me right in the eyes and I was unable to take mine off of his black and blue ones as he said, “Why don’t instead…ya pick up a Bible?”

I snorted and moved my shoulder so that his hand fell off of me. “Shut up. Are you serious?”

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged, and unpocketed his cigarettes. Rather than holding one out for me and allowing me to take it from him, he flipped it around and pressed its butt between my lips. It made me feel…I don’t know. Something. Something in my stomach. I clasped it between my lips and he lit me up. “Not a lotta folks got faith these days. I think it’s underrated.”

“Faith?” I inhaled that sweet, sweet nicotine. “In what, God?”

“Yeah, in God, or Jesus, or Allah or Buddha or whatthefuckever, amirite? This?” He gestured around to Diamond City. To the world, I think. “This can’t be all there is.”

“Yeah, well…prepare to be disappointed, Pal,” I answered.

“Eh, I think you’re wrong. But who am I? I’m just some ghoul.”

“You got a name, Just Some Ghoul?” 

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could answer, two hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. “Blue! Oh my god! Hi! So, yeah, can we forget that happened? Pretty please?”

Her husband approached too, taking a drag of his own cigarette. “You smoking again?” he asked as though I had not just seen him eating Piper out. “That stuff’ll kill you, you know.”

I glanced over at the ghoul. I wanted to shoot him an expression, something that read: _you can’t be serious._ But by the time I looked over, he was gone. Huh. _Well, good to meet you, Just Some Ghoul…_ I thought.

-

“Hi.”

“Oh, hey…!” drawled MacCready as Piper, Nick and I joined them at the noodle stand. When he had said this, his voice was a mixture of surprise and disappointment. It was obvious he wasn’t happy I’d interrupted his date. And that little note of excitement he tacked on at the end? Such horse shit.

“How was the Taphouse?”

“Better’n Diamond City,” answered Cait. “Ya notice how this place blows now?” Cait was, for the most part, unaware of the way MacCready and I walked on eggshells with each other nowadays. She obliviously poked at her noodles while MacCready, as usual, was on his third bowl.

“Don’t worry Cait,” said Piper, “Nicky and I will get to the bottom of this. As soon as we figure out who’s responsible for killing off every single human mayor, we can elect a _real_ mayor, and-“

“No offense Piper, but there’s no comin’ back from this. Even the noodles are shite now.”

“What’s wrong with the noodles?” asked MacCready. 

“Are you jokin’? I can’t even get through a single bowl. Makin’ me sick to me stomache.”

“Whatever you say, lady, these noodles are great.” MacCready leaned the bowl back and slurped down the rest of his meal. God I missed him. Why didn’t we ever go out to eat noodles anymore? Because of him? Because of me? Because of the state of Diamond City? “Anyway, I thought you were staying home.” Now he looked at me, stacking his empty bowl in the others.

“Got bored.”

“Got horny, more like it,” he mumbled. “So, you going to Goodneighbor then?”

“Probably.” I don’t know why I couldn’t just say yes. I think I felt guilty.

“Well, have fun,” he replied with minimal enthusiasm. “Tell Hancock hey for me.”

“Yeah. I uh…I will.” I paused, waiting for Takahashi to prepare mine and Piper’s meals. Then, I swallowed hard. “Hey R.J.”

He didn’t hear me. He was talking to Cait. “Look, I’m sorry you’re not feeling good but there’s nothing wrong with Power Noodles. It’s probably just the radstorm that’s-“

“R.J.”

“Huh?”

“Do you wanna go back to Kingsport with me?”

MacCready sat there with this expression on his face like he was a deer caught in the headlights. Only the deer was tired, and didn’t particularly care whether or not it was going to be hit by a car. “Uh…actually…” he began. He didn’t want to. He was going to say he had plans with Cait instead.

“Never mind.” I excused myself from my seat. I tossed a couple caps onto the table to pay for the meal I wouldn’t eat. 

“Whoa, hey!” MacCready swiveled around in his seat. “We were in the middle of a conversation!”

“Forget it. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Nick and Piper exchanged concerned glances. 

“Hey, don’t let me get in the way,” said Cait, who I ignored.

“Okay, yeah, just leave then!” shouted MacCready. And I did.

-

“FUCK!” I was about to draw my gun before I stopped and caught my breath. “Jesus, is this what you do?! Lean against buildings in the shadows and smoke cigarettes?!”

“Yeah man.” The ghoul took a long drag before doing what he did before: tossing it to the ground and stamping it out with his foot. Seriously, what were the odds I’d find him hanging out outside of Mass Fusion? 

“Why are you even here?”

“Why is anyone anywhere?”

“Philosophy. Nice. Now answer the question, jackass. You follow me here?”

“Hey, you’re pretty, but you ain’t that pretty.”

I felt my cheeks burn as I gritted my teeth. “So why _are_ you here?”

Just Some Ghoul glanced in the general direction of Goodneighbor. “Honestly? Was trying to get the mayor to see reason. Build bridges and all that. Thought if I went to Diamond City and showed him what he was missin’ out on he’d open up trade. Turns out he wasn’t missin’ much. Ah well.”

“Yeah, no, I know. Diamond City sucks now. Why do you care though?”

“Was born in Diamond City.”

“Alright, why do you _still_ care? That means they kicked you out, right?”

“So? Was born there,” he repeated. 

I rolled my eyes. Okay. Fair enough. Though the guy was suspicious as hell, and I was finally starting to understand Piper’s perspective. What if this guy wasn’t from Goodneighbor after all? What if he was scouting Diamond City out, making sure there wasn’t another mayor that would potentially ban the ghouls again? He had plenty of motivation…_if_ he was telling the truth about his past. Well if he really _was_ trying to convince Mayor Hancock to open trade with Diamond City, then he could prove it.

“Alright. So let’s go talk to the mayor, then. Right…now…” I smirked. I was dead set on calling out this guy’s bullsh-

“Alright.” He peeled himself up off the wall and started walking.

“Wait what?”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What? You just said-“

“No I know, I thought you were lying.”

“Uh…why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because you’re a creep?”

“Creeps and liars is two different things, jack. Now come on.”


	55. You're Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock says the safe word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Nate gets put in time out for being a bad boy.
> 
> TW: Allusion to hardcore pain, BDSM and humiliation.

“So yeah, you was right, I was wrong. Diamond City is a pile of hot trash and there’s nothing to trade unless you like maggoty meat. Yeesh,” he added with a slight crack to his voice.

Hancock tittered. “What did I tell you man?”

“Hey, I get it, this is you sayin’ _I told you so_ but you don’t gotta wave it over me. ‘Least I tried, you know. Some of us came from there, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” said the mayor in a low rumble. 

So many things had changed in the world. I had a son who was a young man and a relationship with MacCready that was in steady decline; Diamond City looked like hell and Goodneighbor was flourishing. Seriously. With the Railroad and Hancock working together to give synths homes and jobs, Goodneighbor was doing well for itself.

The Rexford was littered with scaffolding; ugly at first glance, but repairs were underway. Maroswki was on the up and up, and Claire was hosting parties in the lobby again. The Memory Den was booked solid. Daisy and KL-E-0 could hardly keep up with the shipments that were going in and out either with the Railroad or with the Minutemen. And the warehouses were now homes to displaced synths and ghouls.

But the one thing that hadn’t changed – my rock, my unwavering constant – was Hancock. He was a force I needed in my life. Well, that and he had the key to my cock cage. I had covertly taken an inhaler of jet (the pink kind…the aphrodisiac) a few minutes before to prep myself for him. Now I was dying in there, desperate for touch.

There was also something _else_ I took, something a little more…_depraved._

Earlier I explained that over the years I had become Hancock’s bitch. I was his to do whatever he wanted with. He could torture me, abuse me, make me scream in pleasure or pain and either way it ended the same: with my inevitable need to cum. It was the only way I could get hard anymore. Every time we got together the farther we pushed our limits. Once, it took me a week, an entire week, to recover. Knife play and watersports were just the tip of the iceberg. There was pain, begging, pleading, and always, _always_ an earth-shattering orgasm on my end. Today, I wanted to push my limits even further. Anything that would distance me from my thoughts of MacCready and Cait.

A long time ago, back when Hancock and Valentine were helping me and MacCready find a place to raise Shaun, we had attempted (and failed) to settle Covenant. One night at Covenant, I had crept into Hancock’s bed where he played with my cock and forced me to gag on his fingers until I was sick. I spent a long, long time feeling _too_ humiliated, _too_ degraded, unable to justify doing something so vile even if it was one of his kinks. But now? Now it was a common occurrence, and it was something we practiced in, let’s say _creative_ ways. It’s why I had taken the emetic just moments before. It would kick in in a half hour or so, and then Hancock could make me feel really, _truly_ filthy. But for now…

Hancock grunted. “Look, sorry for getting’ on your case, man. You tried. And you know what? If you’d’ve found something worthwhile, I would have listened to you. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Eh, whaddya gonna do, amirite. Guess I’d better get back to it.”

“Where ya headed?”

“Back to Murkwater. Minutemen gotta handle our shit.”

“Wait,” I interjected, sizing the ghoul up. “You’re a _Minuteman?_” Considering his hatred for laser muskets and his love for wannabe Atom Cat garb I wouldn’t have suspected.

“Eyup,” he breathed, a proud expression on his face. “Grew up in Diamond City, got kicked out, and spent the next decade in Goodneighbor doin’ shitty mercenary work.” He looked to Hancock. “No offense.”

Hancock waved him off as if to say _none taken._

“Anyway, was out on a job when some idiot in a dumb hat and an even dumber gun told me to join the Minutemen. Marked it on my map and everything.”

“Wait, was his name- you know what, never mind, I know exactly who you’re talking about,” I mumbled. “Anyway, you said you live at Murkwater Construction Site now? Lotta legwork from there to the city.” Legs. The word legs made me thing of thighs, and how I wanted to spread them so Hancock would touch me. Damn, I think I was sweating…

“Yeah, sometimes I gotta hoof it to Boston to find the part I need. But most of our scrap comes from the Glowing Sea. That’s my job: buying, trading, hauling, scouting for and selling scrap. Say _that_ ten times fast.”

“That’s…brave,” I replied, trying to find the right word. Brave sounded nicer than _foolhardy_ or _stupid_ at any rate. “So you just…wander into the Glowing Sea until you find what you’re looking for?”

“Eyup. That I do.” He winked with his black eye, leaving his blue one shimmering. I found myself unable to look away. Yeah, no, Just Some Ghoul was hot as sin…or maybe that was the jet talking. Once both eyes were open again he said, “Anyway, I was in the city and decided to roll in and check on this guy.” He pointed a thumb at Hancock. “I’m a Diamond City boy, but I’ll always be loyal to Goodneighbor and the Minutemen. I had to try to…well, I had to try to do something productive.” Whatever snark was there when we met had subsided. He seemed genuine. 

“Hey, I get that,” I agreed. That’s all I did when I worked; tried to build bridges and make people get along…excluding some questionable decisions I’d made in the past, like killing a certain Brotherhood elder on the beach after letting him peg me. My thoughts were rampant. I was so horny…

“Eh, well, it’s a moot point. Diamond City’s in worse shape than Murkwater. Besides, that reporter friend of yours still thinks us ghouls are responsible for killin’ all those human mayors. Probably better not to trade with them right now. Such is life. Anyway, I gotta hit the road.” He bumped knuckles with Mayor Hancock, told me with a playful wink that I owed him a smoke, and hauled off.

I watched him leave. His ass swayed. I was hard, sweating, heart racing. I needed to be fucked and I needed it yesterday. The moment he rounded the corner of the Third Rail and disappeared I looked pleadingly at Hancock. “Please.”

The mayor chuckled and said, “Come on.” 

Stairs. The Old State House had so many stairs. I almost tackled the mayor right then and there. Screw the guards, let them watch! But I knew he’d punish me if I did that. Which honestly made me want to do it even more because I _loved_ being punished, but…

I was a good boy. His whore. His good, good, good little whore. And I was going to do anything he told me to do in order to be freed from my tight, metal prison.

I was sweating and panting by the time we reached his bedroom. He closed the door behind me. My jacket was on the floor in an instant, followed by my shirt, revealing a swath scars on my hips, belly and chest as well as a few cigarette burns and bruises that never quite healed. “I’m glad you finally broke down and bought a mattress,” I chuckled, and crawled onto the bed, leaning against the pillow and starting to unbutton my pants. Fuckfuckfuck I was hard in that cage…

Hancock adjusted his hat and said, “Yeah, well, I dunno. Always made me feel like a tyrant. We had scavvers sleepin’ in the attic. Didn’t feel right for me to have a luxury like that.”

“Well now they have homes. And jobs.” I tugged my pants down below my ass, revealing my cage and how desperately I was filling it. And that little, pink canister of jet? My god, it was making me so hard that my slit was already glistening in the dim, dusty light “And now you have somewhere to torture me. So fucking _torture_ me already, John! Come on, I fucking need it!”

“Calm down.”

“Yes mayor!” I shuddered.

“Stop.”

“Yes m-”

“Buffout.”

I could feel everything just sort of…drop. My face. My stomach. Like when I was a kid and my foster parents would drive over a big dip in the road. “Wh-what?” I asked. Had he _ever_ used our safe word?

I watched Hancock close in on me, boots thudding against the old floorboards. _Thump…thump…thump…_ It took forever. Each step seemed to drag on for hours. Maybe it was the jet; maybe it was the desperate need to get off; maybe it was because I was terrified of Hancock being the one to recite our safe word. What did I do wrong?

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. 

“No, and drop the act,” he commanded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. It took everything I had not to respond with _yes mayor._ At that point it was habit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. I wondered if maybe I was being a bad boy for taking my clothes off without his permission, and now he was going to wave the key in front of me and let me look at it for an hour while he stroked my dick through its cage. Or maybe _he_ was going to try something new, too. Maybe he was going to make me swallow the key or something. Oh that would be really fucked up. I would have done it, too. I would have done anything for him. He was all I had, or at least that’s the way it felt when I was jet-addled and horny.

He didn’t do any of that, though. He reached over, grabbed my cage, and unlocked me. The key was unceremoniously tossed onto the dresser, the cage left to fall on the bed below my cock.

“Are…are you serious right now?”

Hancock heaved a long, long, _long_ sigh. It was very unlike him. “Look, man, I-”

“No, you know what? Fuck you. Leaving me here for two weeks and-”

“Don’t you ‘fuck you’ me,” he interrupted, “Now shut up and listen.”

I was pissed. _Really_ pissed. But I did what he said, tugging my pants back up and trying to ignore the vigorous hard-on I still had. That’s when Hancock reached back into his frock coat pocket and rifled around. He set a couple of normal jet canisters on the nightstand as well as a pink one, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, a switchblade, a lighter, some raspberry lube, two buttplugs and a rubber chicken. Huh. So he _had_ been getting ready for me. Why the safe word? 

The answer came in the form of a holotape which he handed to me. As I loaded it in my pipboy the chicken knocked the two buttplugs and the lube off the nightstand. The lube spilled on the ground and coated the poor chicken who gave a loud, wailing squeak of defeat. I hit play.

_“Alright, this thing on?”_ The man on the holotape cleared his throat. It was…

It was MacCready.

_“Hey, Hancock, it’s me. Look, I know things aren’t great between me and Nate right now – god only knows I never shut up about it with you – but I still love the guy, you know. When he came home, he had…”_ There was a pause. I could see MacCready’s face in my mind, wrinkles on his Roman nose, a furrowed brow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he tried to let the words in his mind catch up with the speed in which his lips were moving. _“…cuts. And burns. Cuts and burns and bruises and…_” He sighed. _“Look, I get it, you’re adults and it’s consensual, but come on Hancock. Don’t you think that’s the kind of thing you should talk to me about first? I mean Nate and I are practically married.”_

I felt my stomach twist when he said this. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad twist. Good, I think. I mean I had always thought about marrying Robert. As soon as he came back to the Commonwealth I knew I wanted him to stay with me permanently. Then there was the time we all got high at Halluci-gen and he said that he wanted to marry me. We never talked about it again, but I thought about it constantly. And then there was the talk we had at the top of the lighthouse when MacCready told me he wanted to try for a family again. Well, we did that. We had (very, very successfully, though not without its ups and downs) raised Shaun to be a smart, respectable, successful young man.

I never bought a ring or proposed though. The timing never felt right. When MacCready first came back to the Commonwealth it was still too soon. Then Shaun was tossed back into our lives and MacCready took to him. I wanted to give them time to bond. Not to mention all the time we spent searching for a settlement to call home. Then we spent a long time travelling back and forth to visit Shaun. Then Shaun moved in with us which lent itself to a huge adjustment period. Then Shaun was a teenager and a handful, using all of our scrap to build weird, dangerous (and honestly cool) contraptions, and he constantly needed to be watched. Then we bought him his first gun. Then he had a job, an internship with Sturges fixing power armor. Then he was taking his first vertibird ride over the Glowing Sea. Then he was on “totally not a” date with Nat, and…

Where did the time go? Why hadn’t I ever proposed? Why hadn’t he? Was he too scared of losing me like he did Lucy? Could we even _try_ to get married anymore? I felt like we were on the verge of something big, maybe a fight, or something worse. Besides, he loved Cait. I knew he did. Was our relationship even salvageable?

Another sigh came from the recording. _“Look, I’m not mad, I’m just worried, and I’d rather we all sit down and talk and come to an agreement before you guys start doing hardcore stuff like that. Maybe I’d feel differently if Nate would talk to me about it, but…shit – er, shoot – hold on.”_ **Cock. BANG!** _“You’re messin’ with the BEST! Ahem, sorry, I’m uh, sort of in a firefight. Anyway, yeah, can we talk before you guys keep doing that kind of stuff? I know you’ll both understand. Well, at least you will. Stay cool Hancock. HA, YOU CALL THAT A GUN YOU STUPID LITTLE-”_

The recording stopped with an abrupt click. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence where I stared absently at the wall and Hancock lightly breathed at my side. Finally he said, “So yeah. Buffout.”

“Fine.”

“He’s right, you know. Shoulda talked as a group before we took things this far.”

“And meanwhile,” I scoffed, standing up, tucking myself back in my pants and collecting my clothes from the floor, “_he_ gets to do whatever he wants with Cait and doesn’t tell me jack shit.”

“Look man, I’m not saying that’s cool, but two things.” I didn’t want to hear it. I really, really didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to cum. “Number one, him and Cait? Shit’s vanilla. You all three agreed to it and he’s honored that. If you’ve got a problem, you need to tell him. But you gotta understand that you made this agreement years ago, and him and Cait are close now. Even if they stopped screwing, they’ve got a relationship, get it?”

I slung my arms through my jacket sleeves and glared at Hancock. He was right, but I was still pissed that I couldn’t get off. Maybe it was the jet, I don’t know, but I was fuming. How dare MacCready send Hancock a holotape before talking to me first.

“And number two, you and MacCready are treating each other like shit. MacCready’s right: you don’t talk to him anymore. He gallivants around the Commonwealth with Cait and instead of tellin’ him it bothers you, you stew about it, come to Goodneighbor, and let your steam off with me. And MacCready stays as far away from home as he can now because he doesn’t have the balls to face you. Or me, anymore. Why do you think he sent me a tape instead of talking face to face? Now, tell me somethin’: do you still love him?”

“Of course I do,” I answered indignantly. 

“Good. Then go find your man. Talk with him. You two got a lot to work out before I get involved with either of you again.”

“WHAT?!”

“What?”

“The hell?! You’re not even gonna touch me anymore?!”

Hancock stood up and approached me. He was shorter and skinnier than I was by far but I swear his shadow was thrice as big. “Consider yourself grounded until you kids learn to play nice.”


	56. Acid Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still under the effects of the "pink jet," Nate catches up with the mysterious ghoul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Vomit.  
TW: Ghoul butt

There really were no words. Was Hancock right? Of course he was. But my dick disagreed. My dick only cared about one thing, and it was the one thing Hancock wasn’t going to give me. And so me and my dick stormed off and went to find our fortune elsewhere.

I left Goodneighbor in a huff. Kicked a tin can. Felt my dick throb. Flipped off a dumpster. Inadvertently flipped off the guy next to the dumpster, which turned out to be a friend. Whoops. 

“The hell, Shroud?!” he shouted.

“That was meant for the dumpster and you know it Kent!”

“How could I have possibly known that?!”

“I don’t know! I’m horny and I can’t think!”

“I already told you, Shroud, I’m a Mistress of Mystery kind of-”

“I wasn’t propositioning you Kent!”

“Well I don’t know! You tried before!”

“That was like eight years ago! Let it go!”

“I’m a ghoul, the years all sort of blend together.”

“Well…well I’m sorry! Fuh!”

“We’re cool, Shroud, hope you find Grognak out there or something.”

I stormed out the gate, hating myself for getting angry with someone as sweet as Kent, then stomped my way toward the Corner Bookstore. A supermutant shouted at me and called me a puny human. I wasted six laser charges just to shoot him in the balls. His balls – and all of him – exploded. I was still horny. Fuck. 

I furiously climbed up a slope of trash where a vicious mongrel sat like a king on its rubbish throne. It growled at me. I stopped, glared, and growled back twice as loud. I think I may have foamed at the mouth. (I was definitely foaming elsewhere…so to speak.) The dog actually tucked its tail between its legs and whimpered, bounding off into the ruins. I watched it go, standing on top of the heap with my laser musket at my side, sweat rolling down my face. The moment I paused I felt a cool breeze whip past my cheeks, the smell of ozone in the air. I glanced up. There were gray clouds rolling in. Was it going to rain? Seriously? Juuust what I friggin’ needed.

When I glanced back down at the cityscape I felt unwell; this small, almost unnoticeable ebb of nausea twisting somewhere between my guts and my throat. Shit. I’d forgotten all about the emetic. Well, there was nothing for it now except to try and ignore it. It wasn’t too terrible. I was sure I could make it back to Kingspo-

“Did you just growl at that thing?”

“CHRIST?! REALLY?!”

Two skinny legs stepped out of the shadows, a puff of cigarette smoke billowing in the air. “Never seen no one scare a doggo like that before.”

“A what?” I gasped, my heart still pounding against my ribs.

“A doggo. A dog? But like…I dunno, it’s fun to say. _Doggo._” He took another drag, his black and blue eyes looking up at the sky. He had a thin, wispy set of sideburns that extended down his crevassed jaw which I noticed for the first time in the wintry light.

“Well how did that _doggo_ not see you just now?”

“Did _you_ see me?”

“No…”

“I’m damn good at hiding, ain’t I? I mean I ain’t a big guy. Stealth over strength, that’s what I say. Want a drag? You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” I grimaced. Despite my stomach protesting at the sight of the cigarette I took it anyway and damn that buzz felt good. There was only a little left. “Can I finish it?”

“Knock yourself out,” answered the ghoul, and sidled up at my side on the trash heap. As I took my time sucking down the last of the butt, he asked, “Rough day?”

“Heh.” I flicked the butt into the ruins. “Ever taken pink jet?” Why _not_ tell him? He was just some rando I’d never see again. I had nothing to lose. Besides, telling random wastelanders your woes was just considered discount Commonwealth therapy.

He chuckled. “Hoh yeah. Many a time, many a time.” After a small pause, he looked at me, looked away, and then did a double take. “Shit, you take the wrong jet?” One glance down at my crotch confirmed this. “Hah!”

“I took it on purpose, thank you. I was going to visit a fuckbuddy and, well…guess he wasn’t in the mood.” Thought I’d save him some backstory and give in the short version.

“That’s rough, man. Maybe you should just find an awning and rub one out. Think it might rain soon.”

“Yeah…” He was probably right. I would have preferred to cum while staying dry, that was for sure. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t scaring the guy off with the whole “TMI” talk. I looked him over. He was about a half a foot away from me, head cocked as he watched the clouds. Casual. Comfortable. And so I pushed my luck. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a brother?”

It wasn’t like I was serious. The deal was that MacCready and I could sleep with Hancock and MacCready could sleep with Cait; the deal was _not_ ‘Nate gets to fuck random wastelanders.’

The ghoul bowed his head and gave me a smirk, raising an eyebrow. That’s when I realized he had eyebrows, too. When he smiled I noticed his laugh lines again. It was hard to tell how old he was, whether he was pre-war or recently ‘converted.’ If he wasn’t a ghoul I would have guessed him to be young. Younger than MacCready. Early twenties, maybe. 

Folding his arms across his chest, he asked, “You bi?”

“Pardon?”

“Bisexual. Are you bisexual?”

“Gay as the day I was born,” I answered.

“Yeah.” He gestured to me with a flick of his hand. “Figured.” 

I laughed, _hard_. His humor was…well it was welcome. “Touché. Why ask about my sexuality though?”

“’Cause I’m down to fuck but I don’t got a dick, just so you know.”

Oh. _OH._ Well then. My lips parted but I wasn’t sure what to say. A trillion thoughts zipped through my head, the first being how vehemently unattracted to vaginas I was. But the thoughts that followed were very counterintuitive to that. Firstly, the guy was insanely attractive. Secondly, I was hard as a rock, and him presenting me with this information wasn’t deterring my cock from doing whatever it damn well pleased. When he walked, talked, conversed, he was obviously a guy. I mean…shoot. I really didn’t know what to say. And so I did what I always did when I was nervous. I deflected.

“Yeah…I hear bein’ a ghoul is rough. Sorry your dick fell off.”

His eyes lit up like Christmas lights and he let out this long, hardy, crackling lilt of a laugh like flames lapping at a fireplace. It reminded me of times before the war when people actually felt like laughing. By the time he calmed down he was crying, wiping tears from his eyes. “Shit, man, that’s a new one. Thanks for takin’ it in stride.”

“’Course,” I answered. 

His laugh was really, really nice. I wasn’t angry anymore. Just…really conflicted. The longer I studied his face the less concerned I was with what was in his pants. But…I couldn’t just screw him. I wasn’t going to cheat on R.J. The very idea of it made my insides twist. (Or maybe that was the emetic. Yeah, it was probably that.) 

Of course on the other hand…I didn’t have to _screw_ him to get off. The truth was that there were parts of him I wasn’t going to be attracted to. And the truth was that I wasn’t going to cheat on my partner. So maybe I could just…

“Can I grind on you?” I asked.

His eyes were still sparkling, sparkling like obsidian and diamond. “Yeah you can grind on me. You want my ass, right?”

I nodded. Perfect. A perfect solution.

He gave me a devilish grin before approaching. First we were face to face. Nose to…lack of nose. With a half-smile, he bore his hips into me and it instantly made me moan. He rocked his hips to and fro like a belly dancer, slowly turning on his heel so that my crotch rubbed against his crotch, then the side of his hip, then the back of his hip, and finally, his ass. Every single one of his pulses and movements hardened me further. Finally he backed into me and grated it against my erection.

“Oh fuck…” I groaned, and reached for his hips. They were exquisite. I reeled him in closely so that we were crotch to back, my palms exploring his waist and middle. As they did he ground back into me and I knew, I just knew I was leaking into my pants. Every thrust of his ass moving against my crotch dissolved my judgment and inhibitions. Before long we were swaying together…and I wasn’t the only one who was moaning. 

I pushed my luck a little, my hand slipping under his shirt. His abs were rough and hard. He rocked his belly against my palm and I pushed back down so that he was forced against me. When he moaned his voice cracked like hot coals. My hand slid up his chest and I discovered a tight piece of fabric spanning its length. I knew that if he was wearing that particular article of clothing then he still had parts he may or may not have felt comfortable with; I left his chest alone and focused on his abs instead. When I touched him there, his ass slammed back against my cock so hard I gasped.

“Pull my hair,” he grunted. 

And why shouldn’t I? It was just a little hair-pulling. My nails snaked up his neck and he audibly shuddered. I snatched the back of his hair and tugged, opposite hand moving down his belly as my fingertips teased his waistband. 

“Oh shit this is hot!” he laughed, hips failing to cease as he rocked harder against me. His ass just would not let up, grinding and grinding and grinding until I was…

Wait. What was I doing? 

I don’t know if it was this animalistic lust instinct or the drugs or poor judgment or all three but the next time I blinked my cock was in my hand and I was undoing his pants. He was helping, too, desperately attempting to pull his jeans down for me. I couldn’t bring myself to take him in the…well…but I could take him-

“ass, fuck my ass General!”

I spit in my hand and gave my cock a series of long, hard strokes. His bare ass was moving against my cock and balls and I was so hot that I nearly came right then and there. The only thing that stopped me was that deep-seated guilt that churned in my belly. Wait, that wasn’t guilt. 

My pumps slowed. My grip on his middle loosened. I felt sick. _Really_ sick. And it was sobering me up really, really fast. “Oh shit…” 

The ghoul – who I realized in that precise moment had a name I didn’t even know – turned around and raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, you okay?”

I briskly shook my head and began scrambling to zip my pants up. My new ‘friend’ looked a little disappointed, that much was evident by the way he sighed through his nostrils, but ultimately he let it go and followed suit. He did up his pants, tucked his shirt in, and smoothed out his jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to-”

I shook my head again. I shook my head because he didn’t push me to do anything I didn’t want to; because I couldn’t have morally followed through anyway; because hearing him talk and every other noise in the environment was making me nauseous. 

When I shook my head he stopped, observed, and said, “Dude, are you-”

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“Uhhh what.” 

My mouth was already getting wet. I clutched my knees, bent over, and spit on the ground. Oh god damn it.

“Wow, was it that bad?”

I shook my head again. That in and of itself almost made me hurl. I learned something about myself that day: when I wasn’t doing this for Hancock, it was _wildly_ unattractive. A huge turn off. Absolutely zero sexual pleasure for me. Now I was just some guy who’d let down some other guy because he was too sick to get off. Not only that, but it was happening outside of Goodneighbor on top of a pile of trash. This entire thing – the current events, the location – felt like an accurate representation of my life: feeling like shit while standing on more shit.

“Itookanemetic,” I gasped, barely able to talk. I could feel the nausea in my throat and jaw. 

“You…took an emetic…” he repeated as though he were trying to rationalize what I’d said. “Why?”

“Partner…is…kinky…_fuckI’msorry…_”

I started vomiting. _A lot_ I couldn’t tell if the ghoul was horrified or amused, but his expression told me that ‘both’ was probably accurate. I apologized profusely. Then I threw up again. 

I realized I wasn’t going to get very far in the state I was in and the ghoul agreed, insisting he see me home. I was very much against this for two…no, three…no, FOUR reasons. Number one, I didn’t even know the guy’s name. Two, we had just done some freaky shit on a pile of trash. Three, he lived in Murkwater and I lived in Kingsport; they were on opposite ends of the Commonwealth and I didn’t want to put him out. And four, this was my own damn fault. 

But he insisted.

It took three days to get back. The first day was hell. I vowed never to take an emetic again. I think I took too much because I was sick all day, stopping every half hour to throw up with nothing left inside of me _to_ throw up. Slept like a goddamn baby that night though.

I don’t know why Jamie – that was his name, Jamie – didn’t just leave. 

The next day I felt better and we made decent progress, but we were stopped by a group of Institute Raiders. We nearly didn’t make it out alive. At least I was able to pay Jamie back for all of his help, in a manner of speaking. One of the Gen-1’s lunged for him with a shock baton and I was able to step in and shoot the thing in the head before it landed its hit on either of us. Jamie says I saved his life but I don’t know; he was tough, and I think he would have survived a little, electric crack to the skull.

By day three I was telling him shit I didn’t tell anyone anymore. I told him about how I lived in Sanctuary before the war. I told him about my husband, my house, and my time in the military. He told me about coming out seven years before the bombs fell, how he’d gotten hormones but never the surgery he wanted. And oddly enough, he lived about a mile away from me before the war, though we’d never met prior.

Then I told Jamie about Shaun. How Shaun was the leader of the Institute. How he died. How I was raising Shaun’s synthetic clone as my own son. I’d like to say I told Jamie the whole story, but I left out one, important detail…

“Wow, this your place? It’s nice.”

I smiled and looked down at him. “I can’t thank you enough for coming back here with me.”

“Eh, well,” he stretched his arms and his leather jacket creaked, his pistol flopping around in its holster. “Beats the hell out of walking to Murkwater in the rain.” 

“At least it stopped pretty quick.”

“True that,” he laughed, those laugh-lines of his outlined by the sun that was breaking through the clouds. “So uh, yeah. Keep in touch, huh? I’ve _gotta_ see the view from the top of that lighthouse someday-”

“Who’s this?” The front door opened. 

“You’re back?” I raised my brows, staring at MacCready in his pajamas. 

“Yeah…” He came down the steps and approached us. “After what you said in Diamond City, I told Cait I’d catch up with her later and came back here in case you changed your mind. Who’s this?” he repeated, looking to Jamie who was at least a few inches taller than him.

“Jamie,” he answered, and held his hand out. MacCready didn’t shake it. He did, however, glare. Now, he looked to me. 

“Who’s…this…Nate…?”

I swallowed hard. Before I could answer, Jamie cocked his head and retracted his hand. “Whoa, hey, is this your husband? You said you had a fuckbuddy in Goodneighbor, not a husband in the ass end of nowhere.”

“What…did…you…do…” hissed MacCready. 

“Nah. Nah, nah, nah, this is between y’all. Man, that’s not cool, general. This is the kind of thing you tell people,” said Jamie, backpedaling.

“What’d you do with him?!” demanded MacCready, taking a step toward Jamie.

“Ask him!”

“Yeah, well, I wanna hear it from you first, asshole!” MacCready continued closing in on Jamie who had put his hands in the air in surrender. “Did you fuck?”

“I mean basically!”

“That’s not true,” I insisted, which I knew was a half-truth at best.

“It is true,” explained Jamie calmly, rationally. “We were about to. Don’t lie to your husband.”

“He’s not my goddamn husband!” shouted MacCready. And that…_that_ hurt more than anything he’d ever said. The way he insisted he wasn’t just…

Before I had time to process my feelings or interject, MacCready swung. It was like it was happening in slow motion, his fist barreling through the air, about to collide with Jamie’s face. And Jamie? He didn’t even move. He just stood there with a hard look on his face like taking this punch was going to make things right for MacCready. But then…

MacCready stopped, maybe an inch away from Jamie’s face. His fist was trembling. _He_ was trembling. The merc swallowed, tears welling in his eyes. “Go.”

Jamie didn’t hesitate for a second. He did, however, flip me the bird and glare before heading for the hills. I knew I would never see him again. I knew I had royally fucked up.

Once he was out of sight MacCready turned to face me. “Did you, Nate?” There were still tears in his eyes. 

“I…” I technically didn’t. But…I was going to. If I hadn’t been sick, I would have. And so I sighed, and said exactly what Jamie had said. “I mean basically…”


	57. Fixing Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready have a serious conversation...or at least try to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Irish I had used a condom," thought MacCready...

Well, this was the out R.J. was looking for. I was unfaithful, and now he had an excuse to break it off with me and go be with Cait. I stood in the doorway, preparing myself to watch him pack his bags, shove me aside, walk out the door and never look back. But instead, he sat on the couch. And…he left space for me. 

I took a seat next to him. There were still tears in his eyes. “R.J…” I began. But I didn’t get to say anything else before he buckled and began sobbing. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to touch him or not, not after what I’d done, but…

As I wrapped my arms around him, he melted into me. I held him as best I could while carefully slipping out of my leather jacket, pulling him tight against my chest after. And then…I cried too. Not hard sobs like MacCready’s, but tears that took a long time to subside. We stayed like this for ten, fifteen minutes before either of us could talk. By the time MacCready pulled back from me and wiped his eyes, we both looked like wrecks.

“Can we fix this?” he…well I’d say ‘asked,’ but he was begging. _Can we fix this,_ he _begged._

“We have to try, don’t we? I don’t wanna lose you, R.J…”

“I don’t wanna lose you either. L-look, can we just talk and be honest with each other without getting mad? Let’s just promise to listen to each other and get mad later.”

My first thought was _uh oh, what did you do?_ If he was asking me not to be mad about something after _I_ was the one who got up to questionable shit, then what in the world could he possibly have done? But it didn’t matter what the answer was. “I’ll try.” That I could promise. It was the least I could do considering he was the only one of us trying to find a solution.

“Good enough for me,” he agreed. “Look, I know there’s a lot to talk about if we’re really gonna fix this, but can you please tell me what you were doing with that Jamie guy?”

I couldn’t look him in the eyes when I told him the story – only at the floor – but I was honest. “A couple weeks ago, Hancock put me in a chastity cage. Since you and I don’t really _do_ stuff anymore, it wasn’t too hard to hide. When you left with Cait I went to Goodneighbor so Hancock could get me off and unlock me. All he did was unlock me and show me that holotape of yours, though…”

“Oh…o-okay…” conceded MacCready, who was obviously surprised to hear about the cage.

“Anyway, Hancock said he was done with both of us until we talked things out. So I was like, _okay,_ and left to go home. Except that I had previously taken some of that jet, you know, the pink stuff with the-” 

“It’s called Cumjet.”

“_Cum…Jet?_”

“Hey, don’t look at me, I didn’t name it.”

“Well that’s a terrible name. But yes, I took some…ugh, ‘Cumjet’…beforehand, and when I left Goodneighbor I was really, really…well, you know. Then I ran into Jamie – this guy I met in Diamond City – and I thought it’d be okay if I just grinded on him a little and came in my pants. Things went too far though. I was about to have sex with him but, well, we were interrupted before it could happen.”

It was obvious that MacCready was having a hard time hearing my explanation but he was playing fairly by his own rules, not outwardly expressing anger toward me, just letting me talk while he listened. “What interrupted you? It’s just…I need the whole story. I need to know we can tell each other the truth.”

I sucked my lips in and sharply inhaled. “Hancock…likes vomit. I took an emetic. And I threw up before I could penetrate Jamie. Jamie’s transgender. And he wasn’t wearing underwear. We were standing by the bookstore in a pile of trash. It looked like it was going to rain. I…I’m gonna stop talking now.”

The house was silent for a long time. When I looked up at MacCready he looked…confused. “I knew Hancock was into that stuff but I didn’t realize he was having you take drugs for it…”

“It wasn’t his idea. It was mine.”

“You actually like that?”

“Only with Hancock,” I shrugged. “And probably not anymore, not after what happened the other day.”

“Wait, if Jamie is…” he trailed off for a bit and said, “were you gonna…I mean…you know…I thought you didn’t like…”

“I don’t. I was gonna do him in the butt.”

“Oh. Oookay then...” It was not okay. None of this was okay. “Well, is that all? Is there more to the story?”

“Not really. I was pretty sick and Jamie helped me get back home. Nothing happened after that. I promise.” 

MacCready nodded. “Alright. I believe you. Did you ever hook up with anyone else like that before him?”

“No. Never.”

“Okay. Okay okay okay…” he sighed. “That’s…hard to swallow, but I’m swallowing it.”

“Robert?” He glanced up at me. “I’m sorry.”

The expression that fell across his face was betrayal, I think. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, but…thank you for being honest with me right now. Well. I guess now it’s my turn, right?”

“Something happened, didn’t it?” 

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, you could say that. I wasn’t unfaithful or anything, but…”

MacCready swallowed something down. Shame? Fear? What was that? 

“Come on,” I said. “We’re here to fix this, right? Tell me, R.J.”

This time, he looked me right in the eyes, his bushy beard covering parts of his pleading frown. “I’m sorry, Nate. I stopped using a condom with Cait. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Honestly, that did piss me off a little. I told him so a little passive-aggressively. “That _is_ an act of unfaithfulness. The agreement was simple: I can fuck Hancock; you can fuck Hancock; _we_ can fuck Hancock; Hancock can fuck whoever he wants as long as he’s upfront about who his partners are; you can fuck Cait **with a condom,** and the same rules apply to Cait as they do Hancock. I’m not trying to get angry and break the rules right now, but that was totally an act of unfaithfuln-”

“She’s pregnant.”

The world came to a screeching halt. A non-existent record scratched. An invisible vase broke. The imaginary studio audience gasped.

“Oh,” I replied. “Cait’s…Cait is…”

“I-I-I don’t know what to do, Nate…”

“Did you try punching her in the face? Because I’m game.”

“Come on, I’m serious!”

“Oh, so am I…” I wasn’t going to punch Cait. I really wanted to, though. “How is she pregnant?! Are you shitting me right now?!”

“Hey you agreed not to get mad!” he retorted, standing up from the couch.

I did the same. “And you agreed to use a condom!”

“Well _you_ agreed not to have sex with other people!” He clenched his fists.

“And _you_ suck at talking to me Robert! You don’t even invite me to hang out with you guys anymore! It’s _The Bobby and Cait Show_ now!”

“Hey I only stopped inviting you because you were busy with your stupid settlements! All you ever do is work and jerk off! You don’t even touch me anymore!”

“How can I touch someone who’s always gone?!”

“You know what?!”

“What?!!”

“FUCK YOU NATE!” 

My stomach turned. I hated when he cursed. When he cursed, something was really, really wrong. But I was angry. Livid. Furious. “NO, FUCK **YOU** ROBERT!” I took a step closer.

“YEAH TAKE ANOTHER STEP I DARE YOU!”

I did. He took one too. Then I took another. And he took another. I hovered over him. He puffed out his chest. And…

-

“Ahhhhhh yeahhhh ahhhhh right there ahhhhhh!”

I bucked my hips and bottomed out, my cock raking against his prostate. He was jerking his weight against me while he straddled me from on top, riding me on the couch while I leaned my head back and panted. Every thrust of his hips made my body demand repetition. I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m cumming…oh god I’m cumming baby…”

“Yeah! Ah! Ah yeah!”

My hand pumped his cock as I came. Oh god I missed seeing him that hard. He was rigid and swollen just like he used to be. And I finally, _finally_ was able to maintain an erection without a drugs or a cage or some other horrible torture device. I missed him so much. And now, I was throwing my head back and shooting my seed right inside of him.

“Oh fuck baby I love you…” I moaned.

“Oh god! Ah! I-I-I love you too! N-Nate I’m gonna…I’m gonna…_oh I’m gonna!!!_”

I _LOVED_ when he said that! “Come on R.J., cum for me…” I panted, twisting my fist up and down his erection. 

He did, and it. Was. **_GLORIOUS._** I hadn’t seen him cum like that in years. Each time my fist worked him it coaxed another river of white onto my belly. They were such huge loads that I could hear them hit my flesh. 

The merc’s face was contorted, eyes squeezed shut, and he gasped and bounced and begged and screamed – literally screamed – for more. 

When he was done I expected to cuddle. Instead, he pulled himself off me, climbed up my body, and began licking his own mess off my torso. Every twist of his tongue against my skin was heaven. I held the back of his head and moaned as he sucked and licked and cleaned himself off my belly. It nearly made me hard again. Then…

Voices. Voices from outside. 

“I’m just saying Nat, if you loaded it with salad it wouldn’t be a ‘fat man’ anymore.”

“Oh my god Shaun, do you tell this many dad jokes because you’ve got twice as many dads as the average nerd?”

MacCready and I exchanged horrified glances. “Run,” I whispered, and we plucked our clothes from the ground and fled to our bedroom before the kids could get to the house.

MacCready silently closed the door. “Whew. Close one,” he laughed. 

“Yeah, well, we still need to talk about Cait. All we did was bang.”

“Eh, let’s give the house to the kids. Wanna go talk somewhere else?”

“Yeah, good idea. Why don’t we go to…”

-

“Alright, I was unfaithful! You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face!” shouted MacCready, sitting on the ground and twisting some dead grass between his fingers. We were at the Museum of Witchcraft, the place where MacCready and I reunited years before.

“You got her _pregnant,_ Robert Joseph.”

“Hey, you’re not my mom! Don’t you use my whole first name like that!”

“I wasn’t, I was using your middle name.”

“That’s my _first_ name moron!”

“Your first name is two first names? What is your middle name, _three_ first names?”

“Can we _please_ get back on track here?”

“Robert Joseph John Jacob Jingleheimer MacCready.”

“Nate, Cait’s pregnant and I don’t know what to do. Please take this seriously.”

I sighed and leaned on my hip. “Alright, look, this is an insensitive question but has she considered-”

“She wants to have it.”

“How am I supposed to react to that? I failed at keeping Shaun safe as a baby, failed him as an adult, failed to accept Shaun-who’s-a-synth as my own son for like _a year_, and _barely_ had the wherewithal to get my shit together long enough to be a half-decent father to him. If I can’t even take care of my own kid, how am I supposed to-”

“Hey, what happened in the past is the past, we did good raising Shaun. And you think I’m not scared too? Duncan _died_, Nate…”

I looked away.

“I don’t know if I can take care of another baby. I think we really hit the jackpot with Shaun, you know. I think he was perfect for us. But…well, I don’t know if I have the guts to do this again.”

“Well maybe you should have used a condom then,” I muttered.

“Hey you know what?!” He scrambled to his feet. “How about you stop being a jerk about it! I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry doesn’t un-impregnate Cait!”

“Don’t say it like that, it’s creepy, you creep!”

“Back down.”

“You know what? No! YOU back down!”

“How about no?”

“Well how about I make you then…” he growled. My face fell. Why was he moving in on me like th-

-

“MPH!”

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for not learning to keep your mouth shut!”

MacCready slapped me on the ass and I moaned into his shirt sleeve, the one he’d pulled off and shoved in my mouth as a gag. He slapped my other cheek and I shuddered. He took me into his mouth for maybe the seventh, eighth time before starting to suck me off again. Every time I bucked my hips he would stop and hit me. My guess? Hancock had taught him a couple things about denial over the years. Well, that and we were obviously venting our frustrations. 

Now he was sucking me hard and fast. I kept my hips still and it was torture. Suddenly I groaned into the cloth, sinking my head down and cumming into his mouth. There wasn’t much considering I had just came inside of him back at the house, but damn if it wasn’t good.

He wiped his mouth, stood up, and removed the gag. I panted. “Oh, christ MacCready…”

“Too much?”

“Just a little. It was good, really good. Just hard to uh…well, hard to get hard sometimes. Twice is a lot for me these days.”

“You did good,” he cooed, and gave me a little, overstimulated pump. 

“Oh…” I bucked into his hand. “Fuck baby…that’s…no! Hey, no! Get off!”

“Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing?” He smirked and pumped faster.

I snickered. “You know what I mean. Get off of me, we need to finish our conversation.”

-

I sat next to the lady skeleton, the one in the polka dot dress. I named her Ethel. MacCready sat next to Jack. Jack was wearing a pair of sweat pants and no shirt. Jack was a rebel. And old, geriatric rebel. You see, Jack liked Ethel, so he would go to the rec room and play strip cribbage with her. They would listen to old music on the radio while they played, too, and ultimately, Ethel would win. We had decided that this was their story – these skeletons at Shady Coves Convalescent Home – because making up stories was more fun than talking about what the hell we were going to do about Cait being pregnant. And we had chosen Shady Coves because neither of us would get turned on hanging out with Jack and Ethel.

“So.” I folded my hands on the table. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, Cait said she wanted to have the baby, so…”

“Wait, Have or keep?” I asked.

“Have. Wait, do you think…” MacCready scratched his beard. Considering he had just gone down on me, I was tempted to ask him to wash it when we got home. “You know, she did mention going to Diamond City. Said she wanted to figure some things out.”

“Yesterday, or?”

“The day before. Do you think we should go to Diamond City and find her?”

“I mean, we’ve gotta talk to her about this. If she _does_ want to raise the baby, then you two need to figure out how you’re going to do that together. And so do we.”

“Yeah…” he sighed. There was a long stint of silence. The building creaked. Dust mites wafted through the air. “Hey Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Did we cheat on each other?”

I looked across the table at MacCready. He looked…sad. I think I looked sad too. I sure felt that way. “I…think so?” I answered uncertainly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

More silence.

Suddenly, Ethel leaned over, her skeletal hand sliding in between my legs and falling to rest over my crotch.

“Wow, really? After you _just_ apologized?” teased MacCready, and the two of us shared the first genuine laugh we’d had in a long, long time.


	58. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Shaun have a heart to heart, and both reveal some big plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say Nate has a chip on his shoulder but with Nat and Bobby around there aren't any chips left.

The door to my house closed behind me. _Crunch._ “Huh?” I turned back around and opened the door again, swinging it open and shut. Hmm. Was there something wrong with the hinges? _Cruuuunch._ I closed the door and whipped around. That wasn’t the door hinges, that was-

“Where were you guys?”

“Shady Coves. Are you eating my chips?” I asked indignantly.

“I thought it was called Sandy Coves, you know, because it’s on a beach?” _Crunch._ Nat plunked another chip into her mouth, her fat man jutting up from between her legs.

“No, it’s called Shady Coves. And those _are_ my chips!”

“Uhhh I’m pretty sure it’s Sandy Coves.” _Crrrruuuuunnnn-_

“It’s Shady. Shady Coves. Now stop eating my chips Natalie.”

Nat’s hazel eyes peered through her black and pink bangs. She set my chips on the coffee table, inhaled long and hard, and shouted, “MISTER MACCREADY!!!”

“Jeez, what? I’m sitting right here,” he answered. And he was. He was literally right next to her on the couch, face buried in a copy of Grognak.

“Tell Shit-for-Brains that it’s Sandy Coves.”

MacCready idly flipped a page in his mag before saying, “Hey, Crap-for-Brains, it’s Sandy Coves.” I glowered. He didn’t see, and went on to pick up my bag of chips, setting the magazine in his lap and eating one before offering the bag to Nat as though he had _completely_ missed the entire conversation she and I were having.

I gave up. Those two were like garbage disposals, sucking down anything they could possibly devour; the chips were a lost cause. “Ugh. Where’s Shaun?”

“I dunno did you try ‘Shady’ Coves?” snorted Nat, and MacCready snickered.

Shaun was not in Shady Coves, nor was he in Sandy Coves for that matter; he was in the boathouse on his knees, wrench in hand as he tightened a bolt or a nut or…or something…on a suit of power armor. “Watcha workin’ on kiddo?” I asked, suddenly wishing I had grabbed the chips. 

“Oh, hey dad!” Shaun wiped some sweat from his brow, stood up, and dusted off his knees letting the wrench fall to the ground. “Sturgess and I salvaged a few sets of T-45 a while back, but we’re full up on T-45 parts. I’m scrapping the torsos and arms so we can replace’m with T-51 or higher, you know, something more durable before we distribute the suits to our settlements.”

“No kidding,” I chuckled, pulling my multi-tool from my pocket, flipping it over in my palm. “How’s the project going?”

“Heh. Considering T-45 parts are useless to us, I’d say it’s going pretty good. When we first started, we were giving our settlements anything we could get our hands on, even if it meant offering up frames with no actual armor. But with Nat’s help and the discount we have from the Atom Cats Garage, we don’t have to settle for anything cheap anymore.”

“Since when is _any_ power armor cheap?” 

“Cheap_er_ than T-51 stuff I mean,” he clarified. 

“And hey, what do you mean ‘with Nat’s help?’” I leaned indignantly on one hip. I couldn’t wait to hear his reasoning for collaborating with Nat Wright on this.

“Dad, she’s a Railroad heavy, she knows what she’s doing. Besides, she’s been leading teams of synths in to help out with the retrieval of suits and parts. It’s a win-win; the Minutemen settlements each get a fully-functional suit, and Gen-3 synths get paying jobs.”

“And what does Uncle Deacon say about all this?”

“Dad, Uncle Deacon went on **THREE AND A HALF MISSIONS** with us before I realized he was there.”

I snickered. “What did he change his face or something?”

Shaun looked away in shame. “No…he wore a funny pair of glasses and a fake moustache.”

I’m not going to lie, I laughed at my son. And I laughed hard. “Oh Shaun, that’s priceless!”

“Hey, are you still carrying that thing around with you?” he asked, dying to change the subject I’m sure. After all, I never shut up about his job, or Nat, or how dangerous his job was and how Nat’s job was dangerous and how Shaun and Nat did dangerous stuff all the time.

“’Course I am, you made it for me,” I said, holding the tool out. He had made it for me years ago. The tool did everything: it was a bottle opener (until it broke, of course) and a can opener (until it snapped) and a flashlight (until the bulb burnt out) and even a toothbrush (until the bristles deteriorated.) Now, it was simply an old memento. (And one hell of a lock pick, truth be told.) I slid the tool back into my pocket. “Shaun, I need to ask you something…something important about me and your father.” 

He could tell I was serious, because he suddenly looked serious too. “Oh no. Are you and dad…?”

“Are me and your dad…?” 

“Breaking up?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wh… Breaking up? Why would you think that, Shaun?”

“Come on, I know you guys fight when you don’t think I can hear you. I could hear you guys today when Nat and I came back to the house. Then you had to leave to go work things out.”

“Oh. I. Uh, well, that was…”

I didn’t have to hide it or explain it or keep stammering; Shaun was too smart for his own good. An expression fell over his face that was somewhere between understanding and sheer horror. “Oh. Well hey, that’s a step in the right direction I guess. Also, gross.”

“Yeah,” I said just to say something. If I stopped talking I might never be able to address Shaun again. I think I was sprouting gray hairs as I spoke. Christ, maybe I belonged at Shady Coves. Sandy. Whatever. “Anyway, I was actually gonna ask your opinion on something.”

“Okay?” he answered with justified caution.

It took me a few moments before I could pull my thoughts together. They were scattered like the ships of Libertalia, barely held together and desperate to float apart in separate directions. Part of me wanted to turn around, turn around and forget I was even considering what I was considering. What if Shaun disagreed with me? What if he thought it was a terrible idea? Would he be right? Would I be able to swallow his answer if that were the case?

“Dad, come on, just tell me,” he implored.

After a long, hard, sigh, I nodded and looked my son in the eyes. “I want to ask Robert to marry me.”

Shaun’s face shifted into…well, something else, that’s for sure. I mean he was smiling but, I dunno. He looked nervous. My son didn’t curse often, but he suddenly smoothed out his afro and said, “Holy shit dad, it’s about time!” 

“I thought so too,” I mused. Shaun didn’t stop smiling, nor did he cease looking nervous. “Alright, spill it,” I finally said. “There’s a but. What’s the but? Is it because of the way we fight sometimes? Is it because of Aunt Cait?”

“No, and _no, ew,_”he insisted. (He knew about MacCready and Cait but didn’t like to think about it for obvious reasons.) “No,” he repeated, “actually, dad, I need to talk to you about something too…” 

Shaun dusted his hands off and reached into his pocket. I was expecting him to reveal a tool or some bullets or maybe an issue of _Tesla Science,_ but what came out instead was a little, worn, velvet box. He opened it.

“It’s…a ring?” 

Just as quickly as he’d pulled it out he was stuffing it back into his pocket. “Y-yeah,” he stammered. “So, um, about Nat…”

I felt tingly. Tingly all over the place, from the tips of my toes up through my legs and into my face. My god. Shaun was going to propose to that coffee-stealing, fat man-toting, synth-loving badass of a Wright kid? That was great! And dangerous! She was perfect for him, and would also get his head blown off!

Nope, nope nope nope, this was Nat we were talking about and I had to stop having negative thoughts. Nat was great! I adored her! (Not that I would ever say it to her face. She would never let me live it down.)

I had known Nat since she was just a tiny thing, standing on top of a literal soap box calling me a sheep, or sheeple, or something vaguely insulting (I don’t know, I just remember glowering at her, covered in raider blood and layers and layers of dirt after surviving my first week of sunny, post-apocalyptic Boston.) Nat had style; spunk; pizzazz; chutzpah, as Deacon would say.

She also got into trouble. A _lot_ of trouble. Like, life-or-death situations kind of trouble. Actually, she got up to the same kind of bullshit I did. She would take up a cause and insert herself into the action because it was ‘the right thing to do,’ running from a hail of gunfire into Medford or crawling through sewers to escape Institute Raider Gen1-s in Concord or-

“Dad? Are uh, are you alright? You’re doing that thing our blender does when it’s on the fritz.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, you’re kind of twitching and going _bzt brr blrr buh_” 

Huh. That was a spot-on impersonation of our dysfunctional blender. My kid had real talent. Anyway, I stopped doing whatever blendery thing I was doing and said, “Shaun…congratulations.”

“Really?!”

“Of course really,” I smiled. “I’m gonna have heartburn for a while and maybe get a few more gray hairs, but yeah, really. I’m incredibly happy for the both of you.”

Shaun smiled. He had his father’s – that is, my old husband’s – dimples. “Thank you, dad.” He approached me and we embraced. I may or may not have shed a few tears, too, for a couple reasons. 

Firstly, my son was growing up before my very eyes. It seemed like yesterday when I was meeting him for the first time in the Institute; it seemed like just yesterday I had betrayed my biological son Shaun, the leader of the Institute. If I was grateful for anything, it was that Shaun – Father – had given me the Shaun that was in my arms. 

And Second, I missed Norman. I loved MacCready with everything I had in me, but there were nights when I truly longed for Shaun’s dad. We had a good relationship, and losing him was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to live through. I had watched a nuclear bomb detonate outside of Boston, destroying everyone and everything in its path…and yet losing Norman was still harder. Damn, how selfish is that?

At any rate, Shaun was getting married. And so I was I. All I needed to do was stop fighting with Robert, figure out how to get my sex drive back without the use of insane torture devices, come to terms with the fact that my hopefully-soon-to-be-husband had a pregnant girlfriend, and find a ring. No big deal, right?


	59. Learning and Growing (and not Showing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready learns an interesting little tidbit regarding Cait's _situation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. Piper's food stash.

God, I hated having to take stupid, roundabout ways to get to where I needed to be. I needed to do something about those rogue groups of synths, preferably sooner than later. It took two days to get to Diamond City. What if Shaun had already proposed to Nat? I mean, sure he told me he was waiting for the right time – something romantic, something perfect – but what if he decided that perfect time was at the top of the lighthouse? Or on the couch after…

Oh no, they weren’t using the couch for _that_, were they? Oh god they probably did, like, all the time. Wait, _I_ used that couch for-!!! 

“Blue, focus,” said Piper, tapping her packet of gumdrops against the table.

“I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about…” I trailed off. I wasn’t allowed to tell Piper or Nat’s step-synth about Shaun’s plans. Judging by MacCready’s glare he knew what I was thinking about though. I could hardly shut up about it the entire trip over, even when R.J. _explicitly_ told me to shut up. 

_“But what if he proposes to her somewhere dangerous because he knows she’s attracted to rainstorms made of bullets?”_

_“Dude, stop…_

_“Okay but what if he takes her on a nature hike and a swarm of angry radstags-”_

_“Stop! Jeez! For f- ugh, for frig’s sake, you know I’m more paranoid than anybody about something happening to my kid but you’ve GOT to let our son be an adult! Besides, it’s called a herd, not a swarm, moron.”_

“Blue!”

“Huh? I…sorry. What were we talking about?” I peered across the table at the Dugout. Nick and Piper exchanged concerned glances.

“You were asking us whether or not we’d seen Cait around,” answered Nick, his thumb sliding idly across the silver band on his ring finger. 

I could hardly concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about Shaun proposing to Nat, about me proposing to MacCready, about how I couldn’t get it up for him the night before and he ended up jerking off while I just sat there like a useless idiot, about how mentally and physically exhausted I was and-

“Which we did,” added Nick, which instantly snapped me out of my trance.

“Wait, she was here?” Now it was mine and MacCready’s turn to share glances. “She talked to you guys, or?”

“She did…” answered Nick with obvious caution.

“About what?” probed MacCready.

“Doing some detective work, are we? Hmm. Well, I’m not at liberty to say, no offense. It was a private conversation, see.” Nick gestured with his polymer and metal hands while Piper held out her gumdrops to MacCready. The merc took one with a polite nod while simultaneously managing to shoot daggers at Nick. 

I shrugged. Well, if it was private it was private. I wasn’t going to pry. MacCready though? Completely different story. He looked back and forth between Nick and Piper, Piper and Nick, then nearly choked on his gumdrop. After a small fit of coughing he cleared his throat. With tears in his eyes, he shouted, “Holy sh-crap! I know what this is! She wants you to adopt her baby doesn’t she?!”

“WHOAAAAA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA,” answered Piper, “she did NOT-”

“Okay _obviously_ she did, Piper, because you’re doing that thing where you pretend to be calm and end up screaming instead,” insisted MacCready.

“I DON’T ACCIDENTALLY SCREAM WHEN I’M NERVOUS!”

“Hey, I never said you were nervous,” pointed out MacCready.

“PSHT YEAH ‘CAUSE I’M NOT, DUH.”

“Bud' spokoyen!” shouted Vadim. “This is bar! You want to scream, then order food from Colonial Taphouse!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy who’s louder than the Valentine’s Detective Agency sign!” retorted Piper, to which Nick said,

“Whatever you say, Piper ‘Publick-with-a-K-at-the-end’ Wright… At any rate, how did you know about Cait’s, er, situation?”

MacCready rolled his eyes. “How do you think, Valentine?”

Nick shrugged, and so I made jazz-hands in MacCready’s direction. R.J. shot me a bitter look. 

“Ah, I see…” mused Nick, scratching his chin. There was a strange expression on his face, one I’d never seen before. The old synth turned to Piper for what looked like advice. She had a weird look on her face too, something between sympathy and discomfort. 

“Oh come on, Nicky, we’ve gotta tell him…” whispered Piper. Mr. Zwicky down at the school could have used Piper’s whisper-volume as an example of what an “outside voice” is.

“Well, I guess you’re right…” agreed Nick after obvious deliberation. “Look, MacCready, I don’t know if you were looking forward to having a kid with Cait or not, but-”

“Uh, not exactly,” he scoffed.

“Well good, because according to Cait someone else is the father.”

Silence followed. Well, except for MacCready’s occasional sputter. He looked and sounded like a broken record, eye twitching and funny little sounds falling out of his mouth. Of course the situation was far from humorous. “Vadim, four whiskies,” I said. Nick raised a brow. “Two are for this guy,” I explained, patting MacCready on the back.

Suddenly MacCready shook his head and said, “Whoa, hold on. There’s no way she hooked up with someone else. We tell each other everything.” That statement almost made me order a second whiskey for myself. I was fine with Cait and MacCready being friends and occasional fuckbuddies, but... “So who is it then?” asked the merc in tones laden with anger, betrayal, and a touch of heartbreak.

A bottle and four tumblers were set on the table as well as a pack of cigarettes for Nick. Valentine thanked our Russian host and went straight for the pack while Piper set to work pouring the booze. 

“Whoa, you gonna stop?” I asked.

“Uhhhh nope, not until it’s full,” she answered, topping off the first glass. She did the same with the second one, saying, “You’re gonna need this, MacCready. Like, all of it.”

-

Well, at least one good thing came of MacCready drinking two solid tumblers full of straight whiskey. Did I feel manipulative? Yeah, kind of, but it was for his own good. His beard was out of control, and him drunkenly _screaming_ about Cait’s babydaddy made him look like a caveman with anger-management issues. He the right forehead ridges and everything.

R.J. sat in the chair at the Super Salon while John shaved his beard back into the same sort of goatee the mercenary had when I first met him in Goodneighbor. He was clutching the bottle in one hand, crying silent tears as locks of beard fell around his ankles. “Nade. I’m gumma kill im.”

“What?” I snickered. I didn’t mean to. He was obviously angry, and for good reason too; Cait could sleep with whoever she wanted on the condition she was upfront about having another partner. We just needed to know if either of us needed to get tested, we didn’t even need to know who it was…and part of me wished MacCready had been left in the dark what with his reaction and all.

“I shaid, I’m gumma - _hic_ \- killlam.” 

“You’re gonna kill him?”

“Yarp.”

John rolled his eyes. “Jeez, stop moving around. Your booze’ll still be there when I’m done. Now am I doing your hair too, or-”

“He’s going to commit homicide, John. He needs a hairstyle to fit the theme.”

“Hey yyyeeeaaahhh!” slurred MacCready. “Gimme like, reeeeeal shorp shides wiff like a big ol’ FOOF on the top!”

“Uh, what?” John blinked.

I leaned on one hip, kind of wishing I had a cigarette. God knows I could have used one. I glanced over my shoulder and strangely enough expected Jamie to be standing there, leaning against the church, offering me a smoke, being snarky or preaching about Jesus. Was it strange that I kind of missed the guy? “Uh, he wants a fade,” I explained, snapping back to reality. “Long on top. Did I see you crying the other day, John?”

“What?! Nah, of course not!” he laughed, reaching for his clippers. “But if I were crying – which like I said, I wasn’t – it’d be because I’m about to go out of business.”

“Why?” I asked.

“You kiddin’? Look around you, general.” I did look around. I shouldn’t have, because it was fugly. 

“I see what you mean. Don’t people still need haircuts though?”

“Two weeks ago, some idiots got into a fistfight right in front of the salon. Diamond City Security confiscated half my hair-cutting tools ‘as evidence’. Don’t you get it? People just do what they want nowadays. Don’t suppose your Minutemen are gonna swoop in and save my business?” he asked, tugging MacCready’s hair down from his messy bun. It fell around his shoulders in an oily cascade. Oof. Maybe I _was_ doing the right thing by encouraging him to commit to a haircut drunk.

“I mean, if I can John, then yeah. After my business in Diamond City is done I was going to go straight to the Castle and…I don’t know. _Do_ something. Do something about Diamond City, or about all of these synth raids…_something,_” I repeated, realizing how helpless and disorganized me and the rest of the Minutemen sounded.

“AFPTER I KILL THAT FRIGGIN’ BUTTHEAD!” insisted MacCready, pointing at me while holding the bottle in the same hand. Trademark drunk-guy shit right there.

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, John. I’ll take care of it _after_ my boyfriend kills that frigging butthead.”

-

MacCready wasn’t going to kill him. He was going to sleep off his hangover, we’d go find Cait and have a long, stern talk with her about boundaries, and then I’d head to the Castle. Well, that sort of happened. Kind of. 

First of all MacCready looked a million times better without a giant lumberjack beard. I mean he was attractive regardless, but with his goatee and a short-on-the-sides, long-on-top fade, he looked about ten years younger and very much resembled the mercenary I’d hired back in Goodneighbor all those years ago. In fact he looked so good that I got my hair cut, too, at the very least so I could help John out. It had been a long, long time since I’d cut my hair, let alone buzzed it. Now it was the same length as my five o’clock shadow, which suited me fine seeing as I was starting to bald on either side of my widow’s peak. 

That night we rented a room at the Dugout. I stared at the ceiling from the bed while MacCready slumped over the toilet, conversing with me between bouts of vomiting. The more booze he expelled the more coherent he became until finally, after another flush and the sounds of teeth being brushed, he stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto my chest.

I gave a small _oof_ and wrapped my arm around him as he pressed his smooth cheek against my bare skin. “You alright?”

“I guess so,” he answered. “I just can’t believe that he would do that.”

“Hey, we can talk to Cait tomorrow. We’ll find her.”

“I don’t care about Cait! I care that _he_-”

“R.J., aren’t you angry with _Cait?_ She’s the one who lied to you.”

“I mean, she didn’t explicitly tell me the baby was mine. She didn’t really correct me, either, but…”

“That’s lying. And so is choosing not to disclose her other partner, or partners.”

“Well...about that…” MacCready sat up with a soft grunt, propping his elbows on either side of my torso. I loved when he did that. It was cute. And, well, kind of a turn-on. “I know I’ve been hanging out with Cait a lot lately but we haven’t really done anything in a while.”

“A while?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought it was weird she wasn’t _more_ pregnant, you know? I mean it’s been like…I dunno, six months?”

“…” My mouth fell open. “Uh. And you still thought you were the father?”

“Hey, Lucy and I didn’t even know she was pregnant until four months in. You never know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jeez, Bobby. She wasn’t even showing and I saw her last week. I mean come on.”

“Yeah, well…”

Honestly a huge part of me was relieved. I know it was the jealousy talking, but the idea of Cait and R.J. going out to _actually_ check out the Shamrock Taphouse or _actually_ go hang out places felt a helluva lot better than wondering where they were bumping uglies.

“Wait, so if you and Cait haven’t been sleeping together, then why are you mad at-”

“Because she stopped having sex with me, genius! Look, I love you Nate, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love Cait too.” 

All of that relief…gone. Just like that.

“Oh.”

“Oh don’t _oh_ me like that. We’ve been friends with Cait for almost a decade, Nate. You love her too, just like you love Nick or Piper. But I mean…there was something there between me and Cait. Or at least I thought there was. I didn’t wanna get serious with her or anything, but…well think of it like this: if Hancock stopped screwing you he would tell you why, right?”

“Uh yeah, he already did that,” I complained.

“Exactly. He tells you shit-er, stuff. Cait didn’t say anything. She just stopped taking an interest in me and went from being a romantic partner to just friends without even telling me why. And it’s not like I didn’t ask her about it, but she just kept avoiding the question. After a while I didn’t wanna push it anymore so I let it go and figured we were just meant to be friends. And hey, I’m fine with that, but friends tell each other stuff! She didn’t say anything about _him._ And if you ask me, what a terrible person to sleep with!”

“I’d do him.”

MacCready scoffed. “Seriously?!”

“No,” I laughed. “Not really. But I like messing with you. And face it, you’re pissed that she’s falling for him and rejecting you.”

“And _you’re_ satisfied with that, because you’ve been jealous this entire time!”

His accusation was…not wrong. I sighed. “Yeah. Pretty much. I’m sorry, Robert. I’m a really jealous person and if I’m being honest, you and Cait intimidate me whenever you’re together. That’s why I freaked out when you told me she was pregnant with your kid. How can I compete with that? I literally can’t.”

“I never thought of it that way…” he mused. “Well, hey, I’m sorry for making you jealous. And…I can’t really help the way I feel about Cait, but maybe I shouldn’t have hooked up with her in the first place. It wasn’t because I’m missing anything with you, it’s just that our relationship has always been sort open, and I thought it was okay to-”

“We both agreed to the rules, R.J., you didn’t do anything wrong. What happened happened, and…” I kissed the top of his head, “…and I’m sorry about Cait.”

“Well…yeah. I guess I am too. I think we’re pretty much done.”

I nodded. The truth was I _was_ jealous, I _didn’t_ like the fact that MacCready was heartbroken the way he was, and I _was_ glad they were through. But it was also true that he _hadn’t_ done anything wrong. What a life, right? I was just a guy living in the apocalypse, casually helping his boyfriend get over a breakup with his girlfriend and potentially ‘killing’ her baby’s father. Speaking of which,

“So now that that’s out of the way, you don’t have to kill-”

“Oh no I’m gonna kill the crap out of him.”

“Ugh. Fine. Can we kill him tomorrow?”

“Only if we can do something else tonight,” he teased, pressing a kiss to my stomach. I grinned and glanced down at him. Oh I loved seeing him like that, showing me those small little gestures of affection on my hips, below my navel...

“Mmm…” I shifted. Bucked. Moved my hips against his hand as he cupped my dick through my boxers. 

“Hey. Remember a long time ago, that night you gave me a blowjob for the first time?”

“By the Glowing Sea? I remember.” I smiled, licking my lips as he gently squeezed me.

“Well remember when I told you that I got off to you masturbating?” 

I had to think about it long and hard before I remembered what he was talking about. After blowing him that morning I was left really, really horny and ended up cumming off a dock. I guess MacCready saw me because he confessed that he used that mental image of me jerking off to help him cum later. I think his exact words were, _“Kept that mental image with me all day. Sure hope Vadim changes his sheets.”_

I smiled. “Wait. Is this…?”

“Yeah. It was this bed.” 

“Damn. How much you wanna bet these are the same, exact sheets?”

MacCready snickered and started to rub me off through my underwear. I reciprocated with little inhales and sighs. As he started working me up he asked, “So do you think the Wright-Valentine household is gonna be making room for one more?”

He slipped his hand under my waistband and began stroking my still flaccid but growing cock. “_Ohhhh…_ Do you not remember this conversation?”

“What conversation?” He gave a long, solid pump which made me buck again, clutching gently at the sheets.

“With Nick and _mmm_ Piper, at the table?”

“I was honestly pretty drunk,” he laughed.

“Christ, yeah you were. Well, long story short is no. They will not be adopting Cait’s ba-_aaaahhh that’s good Robert!_” He was pumping rhythmically now and while I still couldn’t quite get to where I needed to be, the attention was heaven. 

“That’s too bad. I know I talk a lot of crap about Valentine but honestly, he’d probably make a really good dad. And Piper? I mean she raised a super badass sister, so.”

“Yeah, that’s why Piper doesn’t want to have kids. Softer?”

MacCready slowed down. “Because of Nat? That’s kind of harsh isn’t it?”

“Not really. Piper spent years of what was essentially her own childhood raising Nat. Don’t get me wrong, Nat is her world, but it’s not like she had a choice in raising her. You can’t expect her to want to be a mom after being forced into being one already. Harder?”

He picked up the pace. “Yeah, well, she did a good job with Nat anyway. I guess I see her point though. I mean, I _really_ do, Duncan was totally unplanned. What about Valentine though?”

“Valentine wants kids. Piper doesn’t. Nick told me that it wouldn’t be fair having an ‘old synth for a dad’ anyway, but come on…that’s just Nick reconciling his own fate. Little softer?”

“Okay, softer or harder, because-”

“Just…here…” I reached down and repositioned his hand, but by the time he was stroking me again I was completely flaccid. Not only that, but I wasn’t aroused anymore. I sighed and took his hand out of my pants, looking away.

“Damn, hey, it’s okay…”

“It’s not.”

“I mean, look, I know it’s not okay to you, but I’m just saying I’m not upset with you or anything.” He scooted up close to my side and wrapped an arm around my middle. “Hey. I love you.”

I gave an exasperated if relenting sigh and turned my head to face him, reaching out to brush my fingertips against his shoulder. “I love you too.”

“You know, you could always talk to a doctor about this.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that. Hey Dr. Amari, I can’t get hard for my boyfriend, can you help?”

“Well don’t go to Dr. Amari! She scares the crap outta me… Look, tomorrow, when I confront a certain someone, just talk to the doctor. There _is_ a doctor there isn’t there?” 

I sighed for the millionth time that day. “Yeah…”

“Besides, he’s gay so it’s probably easier to talk to him about this, right?”

“What? He’s not gay.”

“Bet you a hundred caps?”

“Your gaydar is trash. Make it two hundred and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Two hundred c-ugh, are you serious?! I can’t afford you, you know that? But fine, I’ll take that bet!”

So that was the plan, huh? Let MacCready kill one of my best friends, tell a doctor about my embarrassing peepee problems, and make two hundred caps. Well, I’d had weirder days.


	60. Healthy Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready confronts Cait's babydaddy, and Nate finally talks to a doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plus a guest appearance by the phonetic alphabet!

A sharp inhale. The removal of sunglasses. A pinch to the bridge of his nose. “Ah, shit.”

Welp. That answered that. Deacon was usually such a fantastic liar. I remembered when Deacon handed me a slip of paper shortly after we’d first met. He told me he was a synth, that what he’d handed me was his “recall code.” And I believed him, too! We went from Sanctuary to Quincy, from the Glowing Sea to Salem and he nudged me the entire way, _literally_ nudged me, making little quips like “so that recall code, craaaazy right?” It took me way too long to realize that he was completely full of shit and I’ve gotta tell you, out of all of my companions – even Danse – Deacon’s friendship was the hardest to rationalize for a long, long time.

I didn’t like liars. Didn’t even put up with them. Of course I would later find out that _I_ was a liar too (like when I lied right to Danse and Haylen’s faces about what had happened to Maxson.) But it wasn’t long before Deacon became a huge exception. He told me that that’s just who he was, a liar. A phony. And I knew he thrived that way because if he didn’t pretend, he would wither away. Lies kept him alive because he wasn’t ready to face his own truths. 

Yeah, I know, that sounds dramatic. I don’t know if that story about his wife – Barbara, was it? – was true; about the gang called _The Deathclaws;_ that he used to hate synths; that his gang killed his wife for being one. But whatever the truth was, that story was his way of telling me that he was in pain. Whatever had happened to him, it was at _least_ that big, at least that earth-shaking of an event in his past.

Deacon once told me that if I believed anything about him, I needed to believe that he was in my corner. Well let me put it this way: I knew Deacon was a liar and I learned to accept it. And if Deacon ever, ever betrayed me, I would _never_ have seen it coming. He was like a brother to me. 

And my brother had probably given me a fucking venereal disease. “The hell is wrong with you?” I asked, realizing that actually, I was pretty peeved about this too. 

Railroad HQ was still in the same, old, decrepit tomb as before. MacCready had demanded that Deacon join us in the Old North Church because he didn’t want to _“beat his big, bald face in”_ with a bunch of onlookers. He was fuming the entire way over, and hearing what was essentially a confession from Deacon didn’t appear to quell his anger. It only exacerbated it.

“Seriously,” I continued, watching MacCready’s nostrils flair. Better I steer the conversation for now. “You knew about the arrangement R.J. had with Cait. Why wouldn’t you tell him? Or me, for that matter?”

“Look, it’s…complicated,” explained Deacon, although that wasn’t much of an explana-

“What the hell is so complicated about it?!” argued MacCready. “You impregnated Cait! And she’s obviously in love with you! She won’t even talk to me about anything anymore!”

“Whoa, okay, look,” said Deacon, taking a step backward and practically tripping over a pew as the mercenary started closing in on him. “Cait is _definitely_ not in love with me, trust me. And can you stop saying I _‘impregnated Cait?’_ That sounds super creepy.”

“Because it is creepy! You’re a creep! And I don’t trust a goddamn thing you say!”

“Jeez, take it easy MacCready,” begged Deacon, backing into a corner.

MacCready was getting closer and closer, the merc’s skinny shadow hovering over the height of the tall, bald agent. “You have the audacity to tell me what to do? Oh man, I’m really gonna enjoy this…” 

I swear. I swear I told him _not_ to hit Deacon, to talk it out with him instead. If I had told MacCready to stop right then…well, maybe he wouldn’t have; he was truly angry. But in that moment, two things sank in, the first being that Deacon really did have sex with Cait, thereby breaking my partner’s heart. I’m not saying Cait shouldn’t take the bulk of the blame (after all, she concealed everything from MacCready), but come on Deacon. That was petty. The second thing was that Deacon knew about me-and-MacCready-and-Cait; he slept with her anyway and didn’t tell either of us that we needed to get tested or that he had essentially been the reason Cait cheated on MacCready. I say ‘cheated’ because of the non-disclosure. 

In short, Deacon _was_ a goddamn liar. I could have said something, could have stopped MacCready from balling his fist up, but I didn’t. 

“Wwwwwhhhhhhuuuuuhhhh WAIT!” shouted Deacon.

To my surprise, MacCready actually did stop. If his nostrils got any bigger they were going to fly off of his face. “What?!”

“I-I-I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

“Oh yeah, and why the hell not?!” His fist hung in the air, ready to swing at any second while that poor, bald bastard sidled with his back against the dusty, old wall. 

“Because if you do I might try to **Initiate turret mode BRAVO UNIFORM 2 LIMA SIERRA HOTEL INDIANA TANG-”**

“Turrets?! Are you serious?!!” cried MacCready, who (along with myself) started whipping his head around the room to get a visual on the alleged ordnance. 

Without a second’s hesitation, Deacon slipped past MacCready and ran. Where did he run to? Who the hell knows. Some folks say he’s still running to this day. In all honesty, Deacon probably just ran somewhere to catch his breath. No, he didn’t run forever; yes, he returned to the Railroad later that day; yes, MacCready and I felt like a couple of dumbasses. But in the meantime, I promised MacCready I would do something….something I had been dreading since he brought it up.

-

Carrington tapped his foot impatiently, arms folded across his chest as I sat awkwardly in his chair. “It took you five minutes for you to tell me this?”

“It’s my sex life. It’s…_personal…_” I grumbled.

The doctor sighed. “Everybody has sex, General, it’s a part of life. Next time please spare me the stuttering and just tell me that you can’t maintain an erection.”

“Sure, but only if you say that a little louder.”

Carrington was quick to ignore my quip and said, “I’m going to ask you some questions. Please answer honestly, and _briefly._”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat and picked up a clipboard and pen. 

Great. I loved invasive questions. Well at least the sight of MacCready sulking in the corner because he couldn’t live out his dream of hitting Deacon in the face was a welcome distraction. Look at the way his nose wrinkled! So cute. 

“How are you sleeping?” asked Carrington. 

“On a bed.”

The doctor furrowed his brows. Well, probably. I actually don’t know if he did because I wasn’t looking at him. I was focused on the handsome mercenary and his slick, new haircut. John the barber had even buzzed a shorter couple of horizontal lines across his scalp. At first I thought it was a little much, but honestly, it suited him. After all, MacCready was the guy who wanted a midnight blue trailer with a leopard-print interior, and dreamed of owning a fuchsia and lime green Corvega.

“General!”

“I sleep like shit Carrington, what do you expect?” 

“That. Next question: have you noticed an increase in…hmmm…” He trailed off before scribbling something on his clipboard. 

“What? An increase in what?”

“Nothing, I already have the answer.”

I narrowed my eyes. “An increase in _what,_ Carrington?”

“Body fat.”

“Rude. Hey!” I called out to MacCready. I thought he’d glance over but I didn’t expect him to expend the effort to walk over to me. He did though, lightning a cigarette as he approached.

“Yeah boss?” He still called me that when we were in public, whenever we worked together. Honestly it was _really_ attractive. And professional! Which made my next question a little weird.

“Have I gotten fat?”

For the first time that day he didn’t glower. In fact, there was almost a smile on his face as he replied, “Oh come on, you’re just as handsome as the first time I ever laid eyes on you.”

I looked down at my gut…the gut spilling over my jeans. “That…wasn’t the question…”

“Speaking of, _next_ question,” continued the doctor. “Are you having mood swings? Bouts of depression or crying?”

“No.”

“You _sobbed_ last week!” insisted MacCready.

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you frigging did!”

“When?!”

“On the couch, with me! You’ve gotta be honest if the doctor is gonna help you know.”

“Oh…I guess I forgot about that…” And I did too. I scratched my head as I suddenly remembered that I had bawled my eyes out in front of MacCready. “Actually, I cried in the boathouse the other day, too. You know, when Shaun and I had that heart to heart?”

“Yeah, and what about a few weeks ago when we were out of Sugar Bombs?”

“That doesn’t count!” I insisted. Then I made a face, something resembling a disdainful sort of epiphany. “Wait, am I a crybaby?”

“Yes,” answered Carrington, “next question.”

This went on for a grueling amount of time. In actuality it was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like it dragged on and on. I could not have felt worse when it was all over. Apparently all I did anymore was cry and gain weight and fail at sex. Finally, Carrington said,

“While my lab is insufficient enough to conduct a proper test, it appears to me that your testosterone is low.”

“Okay...” I drawled. “And that means…?”

“First and foremost, this is normal, and treatable.”

“Hey, that’s great!” sang MacCready. “So what’s the treatment, doc?”

“It’s simple, really. If one is lacking in testosterone, one simply takes testosterone to compensate. Unless you’re afraid of needles it’s a simple injection.”

“I’m fine with needles. Are you saying you just…prescribe it?” I asked.

“In an ideal situation I would supply you with the syringes, the needles, and the cypionate. I can give you the first two, but the latter you’ll have to find yourself.”

“Why? Don’t you have any in stock?”

“No.” An exasperated huff followed. “Raiders inject it to become stronger. The best I can do is mark some pharmacies on your map, but they’re probably all looted by now. If you want to go searching then be careful. In the meantime I can at least prescribe something to help with your erectile dysfunction.”

-

MacCready leaned over the railing watching the sun set across the bay. He sighed; half defeat, half acceptance. “Well, we can always check out hospitals or pharmacies anytime we come across one. And hey, maybe those pills will help.”

I joined him, folding my elbows and setting them against the metal, rusted over two-hundred years by the sea. All I wanted was to go back to a time when I could stare at MacCready like I did earlier and be able to spring a boner. I also wanted to sleep better. And to eat better. And to stop crying over cereal. 

MacCready’s fingers grazed my scalp. I had nearly forgotten it was shaved. Before Deacon joined us in the church he told me we were twins now. I was so angry with him that I resented the idea. I wondered where he was and how long he’d be gone, whether MacCready and I should hang around and wait for him to come back. Nah, I thought, better for everyone if R.J. and I haul off. Maybe we should put a pin in talking to Deacon or Cait while we get our tempers under control.

“Hey, you get those needles?” asked MacCready. “You know, just in case?”

“Yeah, I’ve got sterile needles and syringes. Pft. For all the good that’ll do me. Where the hell am I supposed to find testosterone in the middle of…in the middle…of…” I straightened my back, elbows slipping off the railing. “Oh my god.”

“What?” MacCready did the same, staring curiously at me.

“I just had the best, worst idea ever.”

“Okay…?”

“Bobby.” I seized his shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. “I know exactly where to get testosterone. You got your hiking boots on?”


	61. America's Past Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and MacCready set out in search of drugs knowing there's only one person in the Commonwealth who might be able to point them in the right direction. Nate's suit gets compromised and he spends a hot second there reliving some childhood trauma and tripping balls.
> 
> TW: childhood abuse, violence, alcoholism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't spell _America's Past Time_ without Testasparime! Which...is like testosterone, but...you guys I don't fucking know.

I had done a lot of ridiculous things for a lot of ridiculous reasons. Let’s recap, shall we?

#1. I hired a mercenary only to end up blowing him

#2. I assassinated a Brotherhood Elder

#3. I had a son, lost him, found him, and blew up his house

#4. I adopted a synth

#5. I got stabbed in the ass with a giant hook and proceeded to watch a ghoul use a laser musket to make a smoothskin cum

#6. I travelled to all corners of the Commonwealth for the sake of collecting dolls, two of which I needed to complete my collection and _my god it was infuriating! I COULD NOT FIND THEM!!!_

#7. Blah blah blah blah

My point is that I did a lot of weird, questionable things. But this was the first time that I had gone into the Glowing Sea when I really, _really_ didn’t need to. I could have waited for Jamie to return to Murkwater, could have read a book or something while I bided my time. Instead, I went in guns-a-blazing. And thanks to Shaun’s power armor initiative, MacCready and I were able to borrow suits from Murkwater and Somerville Place, respectively, before heading into the irradiated wastes.

One of the settlers told us that we could find the ghoul salvaging scrap from some old industrial plant. It shouldn’t have been hard to find; everything out there stuck out like a sore thumb when there wasn’t a thick haze of radiation. Some days it looked like a mirage obscuring what few wreckages jutted forth from the landscape. Unfortunately, it was one such day.

Dust caked my visor. I couldn’t see twenty feet ahead of me, making sure to stick close to MacCready at all times. He wasn’t thrilled that we were traversing the Glowing Sea, but I think he was less thrilled at the prospect of seeing Jamie again.

After an uncannily quiet journey (save the noise of the crackling storm and stirring dust,) large, red pillars came into view, sprouting up from the clouds of dirt like mountains. We were yards away from the factory now, and I couldn’t believe we hadn’t been attacked by the wildlife; no ferals, no radscorpions, not even a measly glowing bloatfly. 

So it was only natural that this very thought of mine would summon a massive roar from the distance, followed shortly by thudding footsteps. And so the dance began. MacCready and I bolted in opposite directions, luring the massive, glowing, green deathclaw around the building. Fortunately it followed me, allowing MacCready the opportunity to snipe from a distance. 

I guess I got cocky because I let my guard down, taking my time charging my musket so that I could get that sweet, sixth crank in. I should have gone with five. I should have stunned it and then backed up to recharge. I didn’t though. I took the risk, charged it six times, and fired at the same time the oversized lizard swiped at my suit. 

I fell back into the dirt with a thud. The deathclaw was recovering faster than me despite the fact that half its face was blown off. Heaps of meat and gristle clung to its left jaw like a grisly collage. It reminded me of this time in kindergarten, first grade maybe, when I used red, pink and purple tissue paper to make ‘stained glass.’ I ended up spilling water on it and the brightly colored tissue clumped up, bleeding together to create a sickly shade of reddish-brown.

The beast reared its head up and roared and I thought, shit, this is it; the last thought I’ll ever have is of that crappy art project from my childhood back when I lived with Mom, before foster care. Actually, it was that art project that landed me in foster care in the first place. Well, sort of.

After I ruined the stained glass I thought, eh, Mom will still like it, so I brought it home with me to show off. I stepped off the bus, eager to see the Corvega parked on the side of the road at the bus stop. The car wasn’t there, though. I looked on the other side of the street just in case she parked somewhere else, but I knew she wouldn’t be there. If her car wasn’t there then she needed her medicine and couldn’t drive. My stomach sank; I would have to walk home. 

_Again._

That was the fourth and a half time that month. I counted! I could count really, really high! Mrs. Whitmore was really nice. She taught me all kinds of cool stuff, and not just counting either. She taught me about art and science and everything. She told me stories about her husband, too. Well he was dead now because he was in the military and he got shot, but she always told me how he was a hero. I liked stories about heroes. I really, really wanted to be a hero someday too, like Mr. Whitmore.

As I walked home I thought about how I liked Mrs. Whitmore a lot more than I liked Mom. Then I felt bad about it. It made my stomach twist again. I was supposed to like Mom more than anyone. It was just really hard to like her when she always needed her medicine. Like I said, it was the fourth-and-a-half time this month she didn’t pick me up. That half time was because she remembered to get me at the last minute and rushed to pick me up. I guess she didn’t need very much medicine that day.

Anyway, it was raining which ruined my art project even more. I opened the front door and found an empty bottle of medicine on the ground by the couch. Mom was asleep. I woke her up and showed her my art.

“Why is it wet?” she asked. She asked it funny, too. I understood her words but they were as sloppy and poorly put-together as my stained glass.

“It rained,” I explained. A half-truth. I didn’t want to tell her I had spilled water on it too. She already looked mad.

Suddenly, Mom jerked my project out of my hand and went to throw it. She threw it really, really, really hard, probably because it was paper and she _needed_ to throw it hard if she wanted to make it fly. She grunted too, like the kind of noise that people make when they throw a baseball or something. You were _supposed_ to yell when you threw things hard. You know, like pitchers did. But baseballs weren’t supposed to miss. You were supposed to throw them exactly where you wanted them to go. I don’t think Mom knew how to play baseball.

There was blood in my mouth. I could taste it. There was something hard and jagged and loose in there, too. It wasn’t completely free to roll around on my tongue but if I plucked it from my gum I was sure it would detach easily.

_Oh my god! Nate!_

Was that voice my mother? I was so dizzy that I couldn’t tell. And it was hard to concentrate past all the blood in my mouth. It was bitter and strong. And wait, did I really lose a tooth? Did Mom knock a tooth loose? No it wasn’t loose, it was knocked _out,_ or it would be once I pulled it away from my gum and-

_Nate!_

My stomach felt terrible. I think it was because I hated when she needed her medicine more than she needed me. Or maybe it was because I knew she wouldn’t like my art to begin with but felt compelled to show her anyway. I never did art anymore after that. After foster care I joined the army straight away.

Did I ever mention that guy from basic? Oh my god, what was his name? I had the biggest crush on him. He had this dark, dark hair and insanely blue eyes. There were like five other guys who had a crush on him. Back then I was weak, had bad acne, had _shitty ass_ self-confidence, and could never work up the courage to talk to him. Shit, what was his name?

“Evan? Eric? Something with an E?”

“Just…help me pull it off of him!” 

“Yeah no, I know, here, pull this way…”

“Okay, got it…RGH!”

A huge weight was lifted from me, literally. Whatever it was had been crushing me. But I couldn’t concentrate on that, I needed to remember that guy’s name! “Ethan? Shit no, it wasn’t Ethan. It was probably Derrick or some shit,” I mumbled.

“Dude you need to stop talking crazy,” said a familiar voice. Who was that? They had this kind of sultry, booze-crackling-over-ice-in-a-crystal-tumbler, watching-flames-dance-in-the-fire kind of tenor that made my dick hard.

Damn, I didn’t need testosterone! I just needed to “hear you talk some more,” I said before I could stop myself. Something whirred opened. I was being hoisted up, not that it kept me from talking. “Like – ow, my back – record yourself on holotape and just…_talk,_ you know. Like, fuuuck. If not to get me off then maybe you can, like, narrate my life story or something? ‘Mom was an alcoholic and she hated art. The end! Hahahaha!’ Ow, shit.”

Wait, when did I go from being outside to inside? And where was my suit? There was a needle in my arm. I was sitting on a bedroll next to a dormant burn barrel. A glowing, green packet of goo was being fed into my veins. 

“Alright hotshot,” said Jamie, “I’m gonna politely ask that you stop sexualizing me. I think we’re past that. Now shut your fuckin’ flap and let me flush this shit outta you in peace.”

“I’m just gonna chalk this up to radiation poisoning and forget everything he’s been blabbing about for the last ten minutes.” My vision span worse and worse the farther away I tried to look. But I could see the outline of MacCready sitting there in the darkness. Well, I don’t know how dark it actually was; my vision was shit. “Thanks, by the way,” he added.

“Well I wasn’t gonna let Donna eat the guy.”

“Donna?”

“Yeah, Donna the Deathclaw. Shame I had to put her down, but whaddyagonnado? Hold still, dipshit.” Jamie smacked me upside my aching head and I groaned. “Christ. Well, his power armor’s totaled, but I know where another suit is. Bout a mile that-a-way. I can take his FC and use it to bring the other suit back here. Should only take me a little while. Theeeere we go.” He pulled the needle out of my arm and I winced, finally starting to regain my vision and sanity.

“Alright, how much do you charge?” asked MacCready.

“Hey, I’m a Minuteman and he’s the general. I work free of charge, man. That said, I’m still pretty mad at him so I might spit in his helmet. Cheers!” Jamie thwapped me lightly upside the head just because he could and adjusted his belt, .44s holstered against either thigh, and went for the door. 

“Hey, wait,” said MacCready, rising to his feet. 

“Yeah, what?” asked Jamie, pausing as his bare hand rested against the handle.

“I…I just wanna apologize for the way I treated you when you showed up at Kingsport.”

“Hey, I’m mad at him, not you. I’d’ve been hella pissed.”

“Yeah well…” MacCready trailed off, obviously uncertain as to how to proceed. 

Jamie clearly noticed this uncertainty because he said, “Don’t worry about it. We’re fine. I’m gonna go before it gets dark. Peace.”

The door closed behind him. MacCready stared at the door for what felt like forever before he came and took a seat next to me. As he did I noticed a stack of magazines, a box of half-empty snack cakes, and Jamie’s backpack which was full to bursting with scrap. 

“What happened?” I asked quietly. “I remember fighting the deathclaw and then…I think I was dreaming?”

“Well,” explained MacCready, “the deathclaw got a pretty good hit in, shredded your armor to pieces. Took about one second before the rads started leaking into your suit. You spend the last half an hour talking about your drunk mom and paper maché or something.” MacCready paused. Scoffed. “Well, and talking about Jamie.”

“I’m sorry, MacCready. I…I don’t remember any of that. Well I remember having some dreams about my mom but not talking about-”

“Look,” he interrupted, “I don’t know if I forgive you for sneaking off with Jamie and almost having sex with him. But…”

“But?”

MacCready shot me this look I don’t think I’d ever seen him make before. “Nate,” he whispered, “he’s…he’s…kinda _hot._”

“Yeah…kinda,” I agreed. But I mean kinda? No. No, Jamie was _fiiine_ as hell. Of course I wasn’t going to tell MacCready I felt that way. I didn’t know I still did until about a minute ago. After what had happened at Kingsport I never wanted to see the guy again. But the moment I realized he was tending to my radsickness I got so nervous I almost threw up in front of him, _again_. Seriously, that jackass had mad charisma. Just…charisma for days.

First of all, he had hair. _Hair._ Ghouls rarely had hair. Daisy did. Is it because Jamie was born female? Did that make me sexist or transphobic or something for assuming that? Was I fucking _fetishizing_ him?! Oh god why did I care?!! I loved MacCready, not some random ass hoe named Jamie!

“Uh, are you okay?”

“I’m having an internal crisis. And an external one.”

“What’s the internal crisis? Wait, don’t tell me, you still like Jamie.”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“Alright, well…thanks for being honest I guess. What’s the external one?”

“I shit my pants.”

MacCready’s face fell. Then, slowly…very, very slowly…he smiled. “Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m not kidding.”

His smile slowly faded. “Oh. Okay. Like, just now? Or when you were fighting the deathclaw?”

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I made my best guess. “Both.”

-

“Hey! Are those my fuckin’ pants?” The door shut behind Jamie.

“Look, I can ex-”

“You’re supposed to stay _out_ of my pants!” he exclaimed, flipping a four-pound fusion core in his palm like it was nothing. He had his sleeves rolled up diagonally around his deltoids. There was a cigarette tucked inside of his right sleeve. Faint outlines of tattoos danced and weaved across his course skin. “And you!” he waggled a finger at MacCready. “You just let him?!”

“He crapped his pants, man.”

There were zero, _zero_ seconds between Jamie hollering and cracking up. His fusion core – well, my fusion core – fell to the floor as he slapped his knees. “Ho man! You’re _shitting_ now? What should I expect next time?”

“I need testosterone, Jamie,” I explained in an attempt to (A) derail him (B) get to the point so we could get the hell out of the Glowing Sea, and (C) GET THE HELL OUT OF THE GLOWING SEA so I would never have to look at his attractive face again.

“Man, testosterone ain’t gonna help you with _that_” he cackled.

“It’s not for _THAT_, James,” I spat. I didn’t know if Jamie was his legal name or not but I needed a good, strong first name to call him out by and James seemed reasonable. You know, like how I called Nat Natalie just to piss her off.

As his laughter finally began to subside (although his smirk did not) he asked, “You want my middle name too? It’s Robert.”

MacCready and I exchanged glances, raising our eyebrows at the same time. “Alright, James Robert…Ghoul?”

“Nailed it.”

“Where can I get testosterone? I just found out my hormone levels are low, and my doctor says it’s impossible to find any around Boston. Is that true?”

Jamie’s face fell. “Wait. Did you two seriously come all the way out here because your T-levels are low?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m…_we’re_…desperate,” I explained.

MacCready tensed up. “Look, Jamie, we wouldn’t have come all the way out here if this wasn’t important to Nate.”

“Oh…” Jamie nodded. He kept nodding. “That’s why you’re doin’ Cumjet, huh?”

“Can we not talk about the Cumjet?” I begged.

“Sure, sure. Well…I guess that explains why you came looking for me. When I first saw you out here I thought you two were wanting some kinky, radiation-themed three way or something, what with your whole ‘Cumjet’ and ‘emetics’ sort of lifestyle.” Each air-quote was more humiliating than the last.

“No…I did not come out here for a three way.”

“Hey, I dunno man, you’re into some freaky shit. If you and your butt-buddy told me you wanted to get down and dirty in the Glowing Sea I wouldn’t have put it past you.”

God, that _was_ the sort of depraved thing I’d do…

“Anyway, low T is no joke. I don’t know why I feel compelled to help you after what you did, but…”

“I’ll-I’ll pay you,” I sputtered. “I’ll pay you, so then it’s not weird.”

“Uh, I don’t think you throwin’ caps at me makes what happened between us less weird, man.”

“Well when you say it like that,” chuckled MacCready, who I noticed seemed to smile or giggle whenever Jamie made a joke or a sarcastic remark. 

Jamie cocked his head to the side. He studied me. Observed me. Scrutinized me. Then, he pulled the cigarette out from his sleeve, reached into his jean pocket, and lit it up. “Yeah. I’ll help ya’s.”

“You will?” replied me and MacCready at the same time.

“Yeah. And I’ll even let you hire me proper. Sound good?”

“Yeah, anything,” I answered, shifting my hips. My butt was starting to fall asleep. “How much?”

“Oh no, like I said, caps seems weird to me after you tried to stick your dick up my butt.” I expected MacCready to be angry, but he actually laughed. “I want a favor for a favor.”

“Ooh…yikes…” hissed MacCready. Trading in favors? That was complicated. Caps? Now those were simple. And before I could ask, my partner did. “What’s the favor?”

“Something that benefits all three of us. You want T? Well my supply is low and I need more. And I know exactly where to find it.” He took a long drag and exhaled smoke. “Your doc is right. There’s no fuckin’ testosterone anywhere because raiders wanna get hella jacked. T is just one more chem to them. They take everything they can grab and hoard it, so the best place to look for T is raider dens.”

“Oh. Damn, that’s really smart,” said MacCready. What was he doing? Shouldn’t he be pissed at Jamie, still? “How do you know which ones to hit though?”

“I mean it’s pretty easy to tell. Just look for outfits who look all steroid-ed out and raid their hideout. Odds are the guys taking shit like psycho probably got T too.”

“You’ve been doin’ this a while, huh?” asked MacCready.

“Eh, 230 years 362 days, give or take.” 

Then something occurred to me. Something Jamie had said the first day we met. “Wait, I thought you said you were born in Diamond City?”

Another drag. Another exhale. “Yeah.”

“But you were around before the bombs.”

“Yeah.”

MacCready and I looked at Jamie expectantly. Either he was a shitty liar or-

“Was born in Fenway Park in the middle of a game. The folks were big Sox fans. Heh. Ma coulda gone to the hospital but she put up a fight. What can I say? She really wanted me to be born in the park!”

“Did your parents die when the bombs fell?” I asked.

Jamie’s smirk never seemed to leave his face, two dimples sunk deep into his pocked cheeks. But my god, his eyes looked so sad suddenly. “Ah, yeah. Yeah they did.” He let his cigarette dangle idly between his fingers. “It’s not fair, is it? That I lived and they didn’t? I went back to the apartment after the nukes hit and found their corpses. They always wanted to be buried in Wildwood Cemetery. So I made it happen.” 

“Damn…” whispered MacCready.

After a long, hard drag and a small cough, Jamie said, “Yeah I know, I’m the guy who dragged his parents’ corpses half way across the Commonwealth to give’m a proper burial. I’m the guy who moved to Diamond City because he was born in the park. I’m a sentimental piece of wasteland trash.” 

I can’t quite describe the look of longing in his eyes. That man would have done anything if it meant he could spend just five more minutes with his parents, or to see the world as it was before the war. Some days it all felt like a dream to him. I knew, because I felt the same way. I would have done anything to get to say goodbye to my husband, or to see Shaun playing in his crib in Sanctuary just one more time.

I opened my mouth to tell him how sorry I was when his eyes lit right back up and he said, “But hey, at least my mom didn’t hate my shitty art or drive a pink Corvega.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“What? You said a lot of shit while you were delirious. Also, you owe me a pair of pants. Now let’s get back to Murkwater.”


	62. Tom Raids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate, MacCready and Jamie fight their way through a bunch of bad guys to get their hands on that sweet, sweet testosteronie and cheese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Work, coronavirus, sad excuses, you know how it is. Aside from that HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!
> 
> Rant: Jamie is the first transgender male character I've successfully written. I'm like Jamie, and this month marks one year on hormones for me. Unlike me, he's been on T for 200+ years, and writing someone who is experienced and confident has been incredibly cathartic for me. I'm happy with the visible progress I've made and know I've still got a long way to go. But even confident guys like Jamie lived a life where he wasn't out yet; where he was afraid to arrange a consultation with his doctor; where he gave himself that first shot; when he grew his first facial hair and smiled; when he was called sir for the first time by a stranger. All the Jamies out there went through that, and I hope that someday I can _really_ be like him, comfortable in my own skin. Thank you all for reading my work and for wanting more Jamie. Writing him has been so good for me.

Jamie took us back to Murkwater where he dropped off his scrap and I took my first shot of testosterone. I’d like to say I administered the shot myself, but…there’s something different about a manual syringe that goes into your thigh versus using the kind of auto-syringe that’s in a stimpak. Jamie walked me through it, careful to clean the site, draw up the oil out of the vial, and safely inject it. Then he gave me a Jangles the Moon Monkey bandage.

The next morning we returned our suits of power armor to Murkwater and Somerville respectively before heading out to kill raiders. “So why do you need our help?” I asked, watching a swarm of gray clouds roll over the scarlet sky. Insects chirped in the mire, and the shadow of a behemoth could be seen a long, long ways off in the fog, the ground lightly quaking from its distant footfalls. I brought my voice down a notch after that. “Just a lot of raiders, or?”

“Yeah. Been wanting to wipe these guys out for a while now but it ain’t a one-man job. I figure with this guy-” he pointed a thumb at MacCready “-sniping and me being a sharpshooter too, we can do it nice and quiet. Take out the guys around the perimeter then gut’em from the inside.”

“Now we’re talkin!” said MacCready. “So Jamie, how many guys we talkin’ about?”

“Not gonna lie, it’s a lot. And they’ve got, like, Gunner-level ordnance. Turrets, attack dogs, the works, plus, they’re operating out of a popular, pre-war news building, so it’s not small.”

-

“What the fu-ugh, the frig?!” hissed MacCready, the three of us crouching behind a bush. There were at least a dozen guys guarding the outside of the building and they were all dressed in green, carrying laser weapons. “These _are_ Gunners!”

Jamie chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You said they were _like_ Gunners, not that we’d be infiltrating Gunner’s Plaza!”

Jamie took a drag of his cigarette and laughed again. “Hehe, yeah.”

“And will you stop smoking! They’re gonna see you!” MacCready snatched the cigarette from him and took a drag before tossing it in the dirt. “And hey, shouldn’t we have _kept_ our power armor?”

“Huh. Yeah, probably. Jamie picked up the smoke from the dirt, dusted it off, and took another drag. 

“Ugh! Does that mean we have to go back to frigging Murkwater Construction Site?!”

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame the asshole who wrote my character.”

“What, like God?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. Blame God.”

Two hours later and we were back behind the same bush, the servos of mine and MacCready’s power armor whirring as we crouched. “Alright,” I said, “now that you’ve officially destroyed the fourth wall and we’re set back two hours, are you ready to do this?”

“Nah. We need some tunes,” said Jamie, now on his fourth cigarette of the day.

“Uh, tunes?” questioned MacCready. “What, like Diamond City Radio?”

“Nah man, we need some _real_ jams. Here.” MacCready and I watched as the armorless Jamie tossed his pack onto the ground and began to rifle around. I could hear the clacking of holotapes as he set them onto the ground one by one. I read them as they appeared.

“_They Might be Mutants._”

“Good shit right there. Did a sweet cover of ‘Diamond City was Fenway Park.’ Why did Diamond City get the works? That’s nobody business but the Institute jerks!”

“Never heard of’em,” said MacCready. 

_“Mirelurk Queen.”_”

“We are crustaceans my friend, and we’re shooting acid til the end!” sang Jamie.

I smiled. He had this crisp, earthy tenor, a voice meant for singing rock or blues. MacCready was glaring at him though, probably because if he kept singing he’d give away our location. Still, he wasn’t glaring the same way he did whenever I attempted to sing…not that I could blame him.

_“Stingwing.”_

“Every breath you take ~ every move you make ~ every bone you break ~ every cap you take ~ I’mma poison you.”

“Huh. What’s _“Tom Raids?”_ asked MacCready, still glaring but now arching a brow. 

“Oh my god Mac Daddy!” Jamie took a quick drag and handed his cigarette off to MacCready, who replied,

“Nyegh…that is by far the worst thing anyone’s ever called me.” For a second MacCready was going to toss the cigarette aside out of sheer indignation, but just before he flicked it he gave a relenting sigh and started to finish it off while Jamie stood atop his metaphorical soapbox. 

“Tom Raids is _the_ best blues singer in the Commonwealth. Like, take my voice, right? All…bluesy…and crackly…and _hot…_” – I snickered – “and then make it really deep and unintelligible. _Then_ get drunk and drop a bunch of acid and write an entire album in one night, and call it ‘Radstorm Cats’ or some random shit. _That_ is Tom Raids.”

“That sounds terrible,” said MacCready.

“No. You don’t understand. It’s art,” insisted Jamie. “Wanna hear some Tom Raids?”

-

Well, thank god for having two sharpshooters, a couple suits of power armor, a six-crank capacitator on my laser musket, and a whole lotta overconfidence. Jamie and MacCready managed to snipe nearly everyone around the perimeter with little resistance. A couple of heavily-armored Gunners came flying out into the brush, but it was nothing my musket couldn’t handle. After taking down two turrets, an attack dog and some busybody bloatfly from up the hill who wanted in on the action, we were inside the building.

Nobody was in the foyer which wasn’t a great sign. It meant that whoever was left inside was waiting in ambush. There were no hallways or anything coming off the foyer, just one, single door leading into what looked like a massive office wing. I could see old cubicles and desks lined up, along with stacks of ammo crates and boxes. There was a second-story balcony overlooking the main floor, too; a perfect sniper’s nest. I just knew there were Gunners perched behind furniture, waiting for the three of us to make our grand entrance. Now, if I could just clear my head long enough to come up with a plan of att-

_HEY WHITECHAPEL CHARLIE, I’M PREGNANT_  
_LIVING IN THE FENS_  
_RIGHT ABOVE THE OLD CORNER BOOKSTORE_  
_OUTSIDE GOODNEIGHBOR_

“Oh my god, dude, come on,” begged MacCready.

Jamie snickered and reached over, turning up the volume on my pipboy.

_I STOPPED DOING JET_  
_AND I QUIT DRINKING WHISKEY_  
_AND MY OLD MAN SHOOTS A SHOTGUN_  
_AND COLLECTS ALL KINDS OF SCRAP_

“No no, turn it up louder,” joked MacCready although he wasn’t laughing, “maybe your terrible taste in music will drive them out! Ugh. I mean at least put on Mirelurk Queen again, that wasn’t so bad…”

Jamie shrugged and slung his backpack off his shoulders, rifling through it again to find another holotape. I clicked open my pipboy and handed Tom Raids over to Jamie. He tucked it away, slung the backpack back over his shoulder, and held Mirelurk Queen out to me. Just as I went to reach for it, a bullet whizzed through the air, hitting its mark perfectly. Jamie’s holotape shattered. 

The ghoul gasped and drew one of his guns, taking a ballsy step forward into the entrance of the wide, open room. Oh god. He was about to be turned into swiss cheese. “That was my fourth favorite holotape!” he shouted. Neither of us smoothskins saw the guy who shot the holotape, but Jamie and his hawk-like vision sure did. Not only did he hit the gunner up on the balcony dead between the eyes, but he landed the shot from his hip. Just as quickly as he had drawn and fired his right pistol, a second .44 appeared in his left hand and he poised it just in time to shoot a gunner in the chest who had been crouched behind a broken cubicle on the first floor.

“What the hell was that?!” exclaimed MacCready, poising his own rifle to back up Jamie. He was obviously impressed at his marksmanship despite Jamie’s reckless behavior.

“Daddy just killed a man. Shot him in the head. Pulled my trigger…now he’s dead.”

“Why are you talking like that?! Are those lyrics?! Stop talking in lyrics and find cover you idiot!” 

As if on cue, a handful of gunners crawled out of the woodwork like radroaches. Jamie was quicker than their bullets, though, and slipped behind cover. Namely, MacCready.

“Hey!” protested the sniper, voice staticky behind his helmet.

It took about fifteen minutes just to clear out the office wing. I only lost the armor on my right shin, which wasn’t bad considering the constant hail of gunfire. By the time we had progressed into the hallway, MacCready took a ding to the arm and his armored shoulder slipped off. Minutes dragged, and piece by piece we began to lose our armor. This went on for hours.

Shots fired. The clink of bullets against armor. Metal hitting the floor. Servos whirring. The steps of gunners on the stairs. Screams. Blood. Bodies falling over the balcony. The splatter of blood and dead weight. Unsolicited song lyrics. MacCready groaning. More bullets. Another chunk of armor falling off. And finally…

Silence. 

I exited my power armor and MacCready did the same, the three of us standing underneath a massive skylight ablaze with the orange heat of sunset. “Anybody hurt?” I asked. 

“No,” answered MacCready, “thanks to Shaun’s power armor project, I didn’t take a single-”

“AHHH!”

“WHAT?!” wailed MacCready, each of us whipping our heads to face Jamie. 

The ghoul had the blade of a swiss army knife (actually I think he was using the corkscrew) buried inside of his arm. Blood pooled through the sleeve of his t-shirt. Jamie clenched his teeth and groaned loudly between them as he pried a shard of metal slag from his flesh with a pop and a tinkle as it hit the ground. 

“Holy fuck!” he shouted, pocketing his knife. Blood leaked between his rough fingers as he pressed against the wound. “Somebody wanna stim me? Swear to god, getting shot sucks just as much as it did two hundred years ago.”

I quickly pulled a stimpak from my backpack. Jamie moved his hand out of the way. Now, it was my turn to give _him_ a shot. He gave a low groan as the needle sank into his hardened flesh. 

“Did you just use a frigging corkscrew?!” exclaimed MacCready. I guess I wasn’t the only one who thought I saw him do that.

As I slid the needle back out Jamie exhaled and said, “I was trying to leverage the slag out, not slice my fucking arm off. Corkscrews are where it’s at, man. Also good for unscrewing corks.”

We scouted the facility just to make sure no gunners had survived waiting in ambush, but it looked like we’d cleared the place. It was already starting to get dark so we decided to tuck in for the night. Backpacks were dropped in a room full of beds and pre-war snacks were distributed. MacCready helped Jamie wrap his arm up in gauze. As soon as the bandage was secure, Jamie thanked him, gobbled down a Fancy Lad Snack Cake, and said “I’mma gonna go loot stuff.” 

“Good idea,” agreed MacCready and after peeling off his duster to get more comfortable, he followed suit. 

That left me all by my lonesome. I figured I should go lend a hand but I was so goddamn tired. I sat with my back against the metal headboard of one of the beds and with a mouthful of snack cake, began to drift off to sleep.

When I opened my eyes I could hear Jamie and MacCready chatting out in the hallway. “You have to show that to him!” begged MacCready. “He’ll lose his goddamn mind!”

Would I? Oh, this I had to see. I sat up with a soft groan, back and shoulder and head and body parts aching. I pulled myself to my feet, bones creaking as I did so. “Show me what?” I asked, my disheveled, middle-aged ass hanging in the doorway in a pair of jeans and untucked shirt. I went to smooth back my messy hair only to remember I didn’t have any anymore. Dumbass.

“Huh?” answered Jamie a little loudly.

“I said show me what?” I repeated.

“Oh. I dunno, a doll or something.”

Suddenly, my stomach melted into a cascade of liquid joy, butterflies erupting like fireworks inside of me. My eyes lit up like the Glowing Sea. The noise that followed – one I didn’t even know I could make – could aptly be described as an air raid tower falling on a herd of puppies. 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

I snatched it out of the ghoul’s hand before he could stop me, ignoring the confused glance he shot at MacCready. I rolled it over in my hands. Oh my god. It was perfect. It had this delightful weight to it; when I rolled it over in my palm, it just felt _right,_ you know? It was smooth, perfectly preserved, with sunny yellow paint on the hair and a pair of pitch black eyes that seemed to say, _Hey, Nate! Everything is gonna be okay, buddy! I can’t wait to meet my brothers!_

“Don’t worry little fella,” I whispered, clutching him safely against my bosom. “I’ve got you now, you’re safe with daddy…” 

“Is he okay?” asked Jamie.

“Give him a minute,” said MacCready whose turn it was to light a cigarette. He took a drag and handed it to Jamie who watched me in amusement. 

I basked in every last second of my allotted minute to admire the bobblehead before looking up at Jamie and asking, “How much?”

“Uhhh? What?”

“How much money for the bobblehead? Five hundred caps?”

“Oh for fuck’s-ugh, for frig’s sake boss! Jamie, can he just have it?”

“Not if he’s gonna give me five hundo for it!” 

“Here.” I pocketed the bobblehead and turned to collect my backpack. I knew MacCready was going to snatch me by the shoulders, pick me up, find the nearest window and defenestrate me. But before he could, Jamie said,

“Dude, I’m kidding! Stop! I’m not charging you for a doll. Chill man.” His voice still sounded pretty loud. I wondered what was up with that.

“I mean it’s not a doll it’s a collecta…er, thank you, Jamie,” I answered, leaving my backpack in the other room. Instead I hung in the doorway, holding my hand out for a turn with the cigarette. Jamie willingly passed it off. I let it hang between my lips and asked, “You find the testosterone?”

He laughed. “What? No.”

“Oh.” I felt a twinge of disappointment erupt in a sort of mini-explosion in my chest. I really needed to go meet up with the Minutemen and figure out a way to stop the Institute Raiders. I couldn’t do that if I was still searching for my medication. Looks like I would have to put my problems on hold. Too bad, too. It felt like every day I was more and more exhausted than the last.

“What? Yes you did,” MacCready blurted out. “You found an entire stash of chems and stuff! And then you said, ‘Wait til the general sees this!’”

“Huh? Oh, the testosterone! Yeah, T for days, man.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Sorry dude, thought you asked if I found trombones.”

“Trombones?” I chuckled. “Why would I ask if you found trombones?”

“Look man, standing behind a rain of .50-cal death and…” he paused and gestured at me, “…whatever that overclocked piece of junk you’re using to overcompensate with, _isn’t_ easy on the ears.”

“.308, actuall-” MacCready corrected but not before I could interrupt with,

“Ha! I’m getting _my_ dick judged by Mr. Micropenis. That’s rich.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Whoa. WHOA. Let’s just take a step back. First of all, I’m judging your stupid gun, not your dick. Second, I’ve got _two_ dicks, thank you.” Jamie smiled.

I smiled back, folding my arms across my chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The micropenis, and the pitch black, seven inch, silicone strap-on I’m about to beat you over the head with.”

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: This is getting more attention than I thought it would. Kind of like Nate. Zzzing! Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Every single comment and kudo means the world to me. I love writing and struggle to improve, so knowing there are people who read my work - even my smutty fanfics - helps me to push forward when I'm writing the "real" stuff. So thank you! -Michael
> 
> -
> 
> SMUT CONTENTS:  
3\. Breakfast in Bed - Nate x MacCready - Blowjob  
4\. Nani Shimasku Ka? - Nate - Masturbation  
8\. The Fall of the Silver Shroud - Nate x MacCready - Grinding; Hands-free ejaculation  
10\. "Rob" Co's Line of "Mr. Handys" - Nate x MacCready - Anal; Blowjob; Handjob  
12\. Ad Victoricum - Nate x Elder Maxson - Pain; Blowjob; Domming  
14\. The Holy Trinity - Nate x MacCready x Hancock - Handjob; Blowjob; Threesome  
15\. Greenskin - Nate x Hancock - Denial; Facial; Reacharound  
16\. Cat'O'Nine Fails - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Voyeurism; Bondage; Denial  
17\. Degradation - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Denial; Blowjob; Degradation  
18\. Mayoral Doodies - Nate x Hancock - Pain; Domming  
20\. The Ol' Six Crank Capacitator - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - "Vibrator;" Denial; Overstimulation  
22\. The Backdoor Blues - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Anal fingering; Handjob; Masturbation  
23\. Under Pressure - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Overstimulation; Rubbing; Rocket 69  
24\. Finish what you Start - Nate x MacCready - Edging; Denial  
27\. Breakup - Nate x Hancock - Blowjob  
31\. Sparring Match - MacCready x Hancock - Domming; Anal sex  
33\. The Kiss - Nate x Hancock - Ruined orgasm  
35\. Jet Fuel - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - BDSM; Chem use; Forced orgasm  
36\. Through the Looking Glass - Nate x MacCready - Hands free orgasm; Voyeurism; Commanding  
41\. Love Shack - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Masturbation; Anal fingering; Anal sex; Blowjob  
45\. Moving Day - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Denial; Bondage; Accidental urination  
46\. Aftercare - Nate x MacCready - Sex oops not sex lol  
47\. The Glowing Sea-men - Nate x Hancock - Grinding; Gagging fetish; Premature ejaculation  
50\. Home Run - Nate x Hancock x MacCready - Cock ring; Anal sex; Urination; Panties fetish; Denial; Forced orgasm  
52\. Daddies - Nate x MacCready - Sweet, vanilla sex  
53\. Life Goes On - Nate x MacCready, Nate x Hancock - Cockrings; Multiple orgasms; Heavy petting  
55\. You're Grounded - Nate x Hancock - Chastity; Chem use  
56\. Acid Karma - Nate x Jamie - Grinding; Groping  
57\. Fixing Things - Nate x MacCready - Passionate Sex; Blowjob; Makeup sex


End file.
